The Quest for Albion
by pumpkinmoose22
Summary: The poets speak of the return of the Once and Future King in Albion's greatest need. With the Death Eaters still roaming after their Dark Lord's defeat, it will take the combined forces of an ancient king and the magical world to stop them. But can they truly succeed when the greatest warlock to ever live is captured by the foes they face? (Rated T just in case)Sequel to Loss&Light
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is the sequel to Loss and Light. If you want to read this before that, you might be a little confused as to what is going on later.**

 **Just a couple of things:**

 **One: Remember that in Loss and Light, Voldemort's defeat happened in _December_ instead of in the summer in the canon story.**

 **Two: In this story, Merlin has been away from the modern Wizarding World for centuries. No time jumps for the warlock this time. I know it's kind of confusing but that's just how the story developed in my head. Hopefully this will make more sense as you read.**

 **Three: The reincarnated Merlin characters have the first name of their original selves with the last name of the actors who played them. Arthur goes by Arthur James because he doesn't want people to know he's the son of Uther Head, a super rich oil company owner. James is his middle name. Other characters do this as well, like Guinevere taking the name of Coulby instead of the last name of the actor who played her father.**

 **I hope you guys like what I come up with! I really wanted to do an 'Arthur Returns' fic so this is my take on it. The first part of the story is mostly going to concern the reincarnated folks but don't worry, our favorite witches and wizards definitely play key parts and will be seen quite a bit as the story unfolds. :)**

 **Disclaimers: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter or any of the places that I use for this story.**

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01 Fernandez & Wells

The sun was full in the sky, its rays desperately attempting to reach through dark curtains and penetrate the room they guarded. The flat was located in an area one would consider the higher end of society but the current owner had a reputation of leaving it in disarray; instead of the posh atmosphere associated with most in his class. Piles of clothing, leftover food, and forgotten textbooks littered every surface.

With a loud snort, the silence of the flat was disturbed as its owner lifted his face from the table he'd unintentionally been using as a pillow. Blurry blue eyes wandered around in confusion until the brain they belonged to finally came into full consciousness. With a groan Arthur stretched his muscles taut, ran a hand through his blonde hair, and rubbed his face.

Frowning, he surveyed the 'pillow' he'd used the night before. He'd fallen asleep while working on a paper for his English class. It was due tomorrow and he'd hardly made a dent in it. Scowling, Arthur pushed the paper aside. Though he wasn't particularly poor in the subject, he had no love for it either. Sighing, he decided he wasn't in the mood to sit down for the next three hours in an attempt to write something he had no particular passion for.

Shoving himself away from the table, he made his way into his kitchen and pulled out a gallon of milk. After hunting around for a while he managed to find a clean glass and filled it all the way to the brim, thinking to himself that he really needed to call in a maid. If there was one thing that was beneath him, it was cleaning up after himself.

All his life Arthur had been surrounded by maids and butlers, each catering to his every whim. When he moved away from home to go to school he never fully appreciated all the work those unknown faces did behind the scenes. Frowning a little, the young man set his glass in the sink and wandered into his room to shower and get cleaned up for the day. Rummaging around in his closet and drawers, he found a clean pair of undergarments and clothes, setting them out on his unmade bed before heading for the shower.

"I really should hire someone," he muttered grumpily as he studied the state of his bathroom.

He'd been living on his own for the last year, finally attending college to gain a degree in law – not that his father knew that was what he was actually studying. Uther Head was a famous owner of the biggest oil company in Britain now living across the pond. He believed his son was continuing to study business (like he had been doing for four years previous) when, in reality, Arthur was learning the justice system.

Ever since he was little Arthur held a love for the people around him. Every time he saw injustice, whether in cases on television or fights in the street, he felt the need to do something. That was why he was going behind his father's back and studying the subject he truly felt would make a difference. He knew his father wanted him to take over the family business but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Running an oil company was not what he had in mind for making his mark in the world.

There was a part of Arthur that felt guilty about lying to him but his father was not the kind of man to stand for insubordination. He was a strict man, unfailingly stubborn and unwilling to listen to anything that contradicted his ideals. The moment he learned that his son was studying law, he would be sure to not only stop funding him but also get on the next flight to London and haul Arthur's carcass back to the States. Arthur didn't mind America but he was born in Britain and his love for his home country was greater than his desire to attend a college in the US. Although, he grimaced, after the most recent attack involving the Lambeth Bridge collapsing, he wouldn't be surprised if his father did show up and try to drag him away.

For several months the news had reported nothing but disappearances, bridge collapses, fires, random explosions, bus and car crashes, and train derailments all over Britain without even a hint as to who might be behind the attacks; unknown terrorists were the most likely subjects. Arthur had lost count of how many times he'd had to placate his father into allowing him to stay in London. He was sure that due to the Lambeth Bridge collapse he was going to get a phone call at some point today.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he slipped under the warm shower water. His father was rather over protective for a man who seemed to only care about shaping his son into the next Head Oil company owner. Arthur was sure it mostly had to do with the fact that he was all his father had left of his mother who died while giving birth to him twenty five years ago.

Arthur sighed, lathering his hair in expensive shampoo, his mind going back to the moment the Lambeth Bridge had fallen. He'd been there; well, he'd actually been jogging across the Vauxhall Bridge when the attack occurred.

The sun had been shining spectacularly in the sky that day which was the main reason Arthur had gone out for a run. But once he was on the Vauxhall Bridge, mysterious dark clouds covered the sky and, all of a sudden, streaks of black zoomed down from the heavens. Strange red lights shot from the moving black haze and strategically hit spots of the bridge which caused it to collapse, killing hundreds of people in seconds. Right as the bridge began to sink into the river the black haze flew back into the clouds. Both dispersed immediately and the sun once again shone upon the city. It had happened in seconds but it was a moment that Arthur would never forget. He could still hear the panicked screams of those on the bridge in his dreams… before they changed into the ones that had begun to haunt him since that terrible day.

After Arthur had witnessed the mysterious black attackers, he'd been having dreams that were never the same but strangely familiar. He never saw faces belonging to the people in them but the scenarios all involved knights clad in silver armor under bright red capes, a majestic castle made of stone, and – dare he say it – magic cast by sorcerers.

Arthur was not a superstitious guy. Did he believe unexplainable things could happen sometimes, sure. But did he believe that magic was real and that it just might have been what caused the Lambeth Bridge to sink into the Thames? Well…

Arthur scoffed. What was wrong with him? Magic wasn't real! Neither was it the cause of the Lambeth Bridge incident. But even as he told this to himself, a part of him didn't believe it. Finishing his shower, Arthur dried off, got ready for the day, and left the apartment – with a mental note to hire a maid to come and clean; his father wouldn't mind paying for one, he was sure, since he already had twenty in his employ at the Head Estate in America.

The cold chill of the winter air whipped into Arthur's face the second he stepped outside. Christmas was right around the corner and though the rest of the world was actively celebrating by decorating their homes, shop windows, and streets, Arthur didn't see the point in partaking in the festivities himself. It was just going to be him in his apartment. Well, him, Gwaine, and whatever girl the insufferable man decided to bring with him.

Gwaine Macken was Arthur's next door neighbor and he was a complete idiot. The man was the owner of a highly successful corporation -Arthur hadn't cared to learn which- but he didn't have any interest in running the company so he left it for others to do it for him. His father had died a few years ago, leaving everything to Gwaine, but the young man didn't want to walk in the footsteps of his father. It was this one thing that he and Arthur had in common. Other than that, the fool was an infamous playboy with a high tolerance and love for alcohol, spending the majority of his time wandering the streets of London in pursuit of pretty girls and bars.

Gwaine had text him last week asking what he was doing for Christmas before unceremoniously inviting himself over since he was in the same predicament as Arthur: not wanting to go home for the holidays. Arthur had been highly annoyed but hadn't objected too much since he figured it would be better spending the holiday with someone he knew rather than by himself like a scrooge.

Dreading the coming holiday, Arthur shoved his hands deeper into his thick jacket and huddled into his scarf, wandering down the street towards one of his favorite cafes, Fernandez & Wells. The small shop was appealing and he loved the food even though it was different from the posh establishments the rest in his class sought out. Entering the café, he wandered up to the counter and ordered an Espresso and a slice of lemon tea cake. After getting his order, he sat down in the nearest available corner of the café and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, he had two text messages and a voicemail from his father all demanding that he call home as soon as he was able. Arthur rolled his eyes, pocketed his phone, and turned back to his coffee.

He was just finishing up the remains of his cake when someone sat down two chairs away from him, someone who caused the very breath in his lungs to still and his heart to race. Her mocha colored skin was mostly hidden beneath a red pea coat, a gold paisley-patterned scarf barely visible under mounds of short ebony curls. Her square shaped face was beautiful, her cheekbones rosy, her brown eyes round like a doe, and her full lips currently pulled in a contented smile as she sipped from a mug.

And then she turned her gaze on him and Arthur didn't know what to do with himself. Floundering, he jumped a little under the scrutiny and the fork in his hand slipped through his fingers and tumbled to the floor while he, like the idiot he was, fumbled to catch it. There was a quiet giggle and Arthur's face felt like it was on fire. Trying to maintain his dignity, he cleared his throat, picked up the blasted utensil, and set it down on the table. Arthur unconsciously swallowed, his brain unable to properly think of anything to do or say even though the girl was no longer staring at him –her eyes had gone to a book she'd just pulled out of her bag.

Unable to look away, Arthur watched her every move while trying to come up with a way to talk to her. But his tongue felt like it had swollen in his mouth and his brain, usually filled with intelligence, was now full of cobwebs. That is, until someone else sat down next to her and she leaned over, happily kissing him on the cheek in greeting. Arthur's heart felt like it had been stabbed as he watched and eavesdropped on their conversation.

"Lancelot, what are you doing here?" the young woman asked, her eyes bright at the sight of the dark-skinned, brown-eyed man possessing a five o'clock shadow over his strong jaw line.

"I was in the neighborhood when I saw you in the window," Lancelot answered. "I thought I'd stop in to see what you were up to. How are you Gwen?"

Gwen… was that short for something else? Gwenneth? Guinevere? For some reason the latter seemed to resonate with him. _Guinevere…_

"I'm fairing pretty well, all things considered," Gwen answered. "I only have one final left to take and then I'll be free to celebrate the holiday."

"Are you doing anything special for Christmas?"

"Not really. I'm spending it here."

"Alone?" Lancelot prompted.

Arthur started and before he knew what he was doing, he interrupted. "She was actually going to spend it with me."

Both Gwen and Lancelot turned to look at him. Arthur tried to keep his chin raised and his expression friendly. Lancelot appraised him up and down, noting without difficulty his designer clothes and well kept appearance – a stark different to what he was wearing: second hand jeans and a thick jacket from a thrift store. Arthur raised his brow a little as he noticed Lancelot put a protective hand on Gwen's shoulder.

"I have a hard time believing that," he said, his tone hard. "Who are you?"

"I'm Arthur." He held out his hand. "Arthur James." He'd gotten into the habit of introducing himself with his first and middle name only; he didn't want to be defined as the spoiled rich son of a major oil company.

Surprisingly, Lancelot shook his hand. "Lancelot," he introduced. "This is Guinevere but everyone calls her Gwen."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur smiled. "I'm sorry for earlier; I couldn't help overhearing. It just so happens I'm also unable to spend the holiday with relatives so I figured two lonely souls could spend it together."

Before either of them could say anything more, Arthur whipped out a card with his name and phone number on it, handing it to Guinevere who deftly accepted while keeping her eyes trained on his face.

"You can call and text anytime," Arthur smiled at her. "Let me know if you want to spend the holiday together."

And then to everyone's shock, including his own, he took her hand and kissed it. His heart leapt from the contact and to his pleasure, Guinevere didn't pull away in disgust. Actually, she looked flattered, her cheeks darkening even further than they had before. Feeling Lancelot's narrowed eyes, Arthur let go and straightened while clearing his throat.

"Well, I'd best be off. It was nice to meet you, Lancelot, Guinevere," his smile grew wider when he looked on the latter. "I'll be hoping for that phone call."

And before he could lose his nerve, he left the café, his heart pounding against his ribcage. As he headed back to his flat in a daze, he couldn't believe what he'd just done. Had he really been so arrogant as to pretend to know Gwen and insist she spend Christmas with him?! True, the thought was elating, but had he seriously just allowed a jealous rage to spur him to act like a self confident jerk?

Arthur rubbed his hand over his face. If Gwaine ever learned of this, he'd never live it down. Frustrated, embarrassed, and deep down praying that Gwen would accept his offer, Arthur went home to distract his mind with his essay.

[][][]

Merlin stood in the Weasleys kitchen, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. The Christmas holidays had started two days ago, everyone going home so the school could be rebuilt from the battle that had taken place a few weeks previous. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be returning to Hogwarts after the break to participate in the latter half of their seventh year; even though the three had been rather reluctant, finishing their education and graduating was something both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall had been adamant about.

Merlin had spent most of his time with the Trio but now he was ready to go off and find his friend. He'd been told that Arthur had returned and was somewhere in Britain. He needed to find the prat before he could hurt himself. Hefting his bag over his shoulder he smiled at the gathered members of the Order of the Phoenix and his three dear friends.

"Are you certain that this is what you should be doing?" Kingsley Shacklebolt, recently elected Minister of Magic, asked. "We could really use your help rounding up the Death Eaters and restoring peace to the magical community."

Merlin smiled at him, his eyes a little sad. "You know that I would love to stay and help in any way I can but I need to find my king. After I have, I'll see what I can do to help rebuild what Voldemort tore down."

Kingsley's shoulders drooped a fraction but he kept his disappointment from coloring his tone as he stepped forward and shook Merlin's hand. "Then we'll look forward to that day. Good luck finding him, Merlin."

Merlin's grin was wide. "Oh, I'll find him. I've waited fifteen hundred years for his return. Finally, after all these years…"

So great was his elation he could no longer speak. Tears pricked his eyes and he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Gathering his emotions, he gazed upon the faces of friends he hadn't seen in many centuries. It was odd seeing them again but being with them, among so many with magic who held kind hearts, was a revival to his old soul in and of itself. He turned to Harry and looked on him with pride.

"Take care of yourselves," he advised.

Harry stepped forward and took his hand. "You too, Merlin," his smiled.

It was the first time Merlin had ever seen Harry so relaxed. The boy's green eyes were alight with life and the tension in his shoulders was gone. His burdens had been lifted and he was now free to live his life. Merlin was happy for him and kind of understood how he felt. His burden of loneliness was now gone, replaced with the knowledge that somewhere out there was Arthur, his dearest friend, his soul brother, the other half of his coin. Finally the two would soon be reunited.

Inclining his head to Harry, Merlin waved at the gathered group of witches and wizards before stepping back and transporting away to the heart of London, feeling it was there that he should begin his search. Appearing in an alley he knew would be devoid of prying eyes, Merlin's smile grew as he joined the throngs of city-goers in the busy streets of London. Each face he passed did not escape his notice but none turned out to be the one he was looking for.

Though he didn't have anything else to go on, and the Old Religion had been silent on where exactly he should go besides London, Merlin wasn't too worried. He was actually rather content, wandering the streets of the bustling city, enjoying the revelation that had been fueling his happiness since he'd woken back in that hovel in Ireland. Somewhere in this vast city, Arthur roamed, and that knowledge was enough for the ancient warlock. Even if it took him several days, he was confident that he would run into Arthur sooner than later. It was this notion that kept the spring in his step even when the sun had set and the time for searching was put on hold so he could find a hotel for the night.

Since money still wasn't a problem, Merlin decided to treat himself to a rather luxurious hotel with one of the best rooms it had to offer. Locating his room five minutes later, the warlock eyed his surroundings, approving of the soft taste in décor. The room's colors were mostly beige and teal with dark cherry wood furniture. The king sized bed was decorated with a solid teal comforter, beige sheets, and several duck-feather pillows. A soft rug covered the carpeted floor near a lounging sofa facing a giant flat screen television. A fireplace was guarded overhead by a large ornate mirror and on the far side of the room was a private balcony – which sported a porch swing overlooking the vast River Thames.

Setting his travel bag on the dresser near the walk-in closet, Merlin peeked into the bathroom. He was pleased to find not only did it contain a shower but a huge bathtub built into the floor. A nice large mirror over a long counter with two sinks allowed him to stare at his reflection. Merlin decided that he really needed to shave; he'd allowed his stubble to grow the last couple of days. Pleased with the bathroom, Merlin left it to get ready for bed. What nobody would ever figure out was his seemingly small shoulder bag had an undetectable extension charm which allowed him to store all his necessities from his clothes to his knick knacks. It also possessed a weightless charm, making it so the bag felt like he was merely carrying a cloud instead of hundreds of pounds of materials. Using a summoning spell, Merlin found his pajamas and toiletry bag before heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

He found himself lightly humming as he prepared for bed, stopping only to brush his teeth. He hadn't been this happy since Camelot's golden days. Sighing, he entertained himself with countless memories of when he wandered around with the knights, dealt with magical threats, and helped the magical community grow together in unity and peace. Those days had been the best he'd ever had.

Slipping into bed, his thoughts strayed to Arthur, his heart pounding in anticipation for the morn. With a smile still on his face, Merlin turned on his side and burrowed into the soft pillows, his last thoughts dwelling on how Arthur would probably approve of such a bed; surely he'd joke that it was too nice for a former servant. Grinning, the warlock fell asleep.

[][][]

Arthur hadn't been expecting a phone call so late in the evening. Well, it wasn't really that late; eleven o'clock. Still, he hadn't anticipated one. Frowning when he didn't recognize the number, he almost surprised himself when he answered.

"Hello?"

"Um, hello? Is this Arthur James?" a timid female voice asked.

"It is. May I ask who is calling?"

"Oh, um, this is Guinevere Coulby. We met –"

"Guinevere!"

Arthur's heart took off. He couldn't believe it. _She'd actually called him?!_ After beating himself up for being such an arrogant prat at the café he concluded that there was no way he'd ever hear from the beautiful young woman again. And yet here she was, calling him!

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm glad you called."

"I'm surprised I did, honestly," she hesitantly chuckled.

"So am I," Arthur admitted which drew a real laugh from her. His heart melted a little.

"Well, you were a little conceited earlier," she said, her tone indicating that she was smiling.

"Conceited? I would call it confidence," Arthur countered, also smiling as he paced back and forth, running his hand through his hair. He couldn't sit still, his nerves completely on edge.

Guinevere paused. "Listen, Arthur, I know it's late and I apologize for that but I really was wondering if I could talk to you sometime tomorrow? In person?"

"Sure!" Arthur replied, ecstatic. He tried to contain his elation over the suggestion as he continued in a more controlled manner, "Where did you want to meet?"

"The same café around one o'clock? I would suggest earlier but I have a class in the morning."

"No, that works. I also have one."

"Oh, okay then… one o'clock then… see you…?"

"Yes," Arthur awkwardly answered in haste. "I'll be there."

"Right… bye."

"Good night, Guinevere."

The call ended and Arthur stared at his phone before letting out a whoop of joy. Had that really just happened? Had Guinevere – the girl who had filled his thoughts all day – seriously just asked to meet him tomorrow? Arthur felt like he could conquer the world. Never in a million years had he expected such good fortune! Grinning like a madman, he went about his apartment in a daze, wandering through the mess on his floor to his bedroom where he proceeded to get to bed. The last thing that went through his mind was his desire for sleep to come so the morning would soon follow. Tomorrow was going to be a memorable one, he was sure of it!

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 **Reviews are always appreciated! The next chapter will probably be up next week. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Can I first off say thank you all so much for responding so enthusiastically about this sequel! My only hope is that I'll do it justice. You'll notice a difference with this one, though. The chapters are not going to be as long as L &L. Not because I can't think of a way to make them longer; I'm challenging myself to write shorter chapters. I tend to write long ones. Anywho, on with the story, hmmm? :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

 **I promise the HP gang will show up after a while. Have patience with me. There's a method to my madness. For now, enjoy the Merlin characters stumbling around in the future. :)**

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02: Lakeside Gardens

Arthur was frustrated. He'd returned from his class and now stood in front of his closet. It was a quarter to one. How was it possible that he couldn't find anything nice to wear when he had so many clothes? Sometimes he wished someone else would pick out his wardrobe for him. It would certainly have saved him time! Groaning, he glanced again at the clock and panicked. Grabbing a red dress shirt, he hastily threw it over his shoulders, his fingers fumbling across the buttons. Tucking the shirt into a pair of kaki dress pants, he slipped on a pair of shoes, a scarf, and his black overcoat before booking it out the door.

He made it to the café on time and, after a quick look around, deduced that Guinevere had yet to arrive. Somewhat thankful that he had a moment to compose himself, Arthur tried to keep his nerves in check. What was wrong with him? He'd gone on hundreds of dates with beautiful women before and remained in complete control of himself. Why was he so nervous? Maybe she wouldn't come? Maybe he wasn't -

"Arthur?"

Arthur spun around and his heart leapt. Guinevere had her hair pulled back today, allowing him to see a pair of large hoop earrings through the curls. She wore a deep purple coat, white scarf, and black pants. She was the picture of perfection.

"Guinevere," he greeted in relief, smiling happily. "I'm glad you came."

She sent him a small smile. "I am a woman of my word, you know. Did you think I was going to stand you up?"

"No, definitely not!" he hastily replied before clearing his throat to compose himself. "What I meant was, I'm glad I get to see you again."

Guinevere let out a small breath of laughter, her cheeks turning pink. "Well, you're good at making someone feel special, I'll give you that."

Arthur stared at her with sincerity. "Because you are."

Guinevere's blush deepened, her eyes dropping to the floor, a smile on her face. Arthur couldn't help thinking how beautiful she was. A moment passed. Guinevere glanced at an empty table. "Um, should we sit?"

"Of course."

They took their seats but neither spoke. After a while Guinevere lightly coughed. "So…" she bit her lip. "Why did you offer to have me spend Christmas with you?"

Arthur blinked. "Honestly? I invited you because I wanted to. My father lives across the pond and he and I aren't really seeing eye to eye these days."

"So you'd rather spend Christmas with a stranger than your own family?" The skeptical note in her voice was accompanied with a raised eyebrow.

Arthur shrugged. "Your company would be far more satisfying than my father's, trust me. There isn't a Christmas that doesn't end in some form of argument. I'd rather avoid that this year if I can help it. Besides, he thinks that I won't be able to spend the holiday with him due to schooling; I told him I have too many projects to work on over the break that I can't afford to put off."

Guinevere looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry you don't get along with your father."

Arthur looked down at his folded hands. "He's a great man, he really is. I look up to him in many ways but I still feel that there are some things he does that I don't agree with. He expects me to take over the family business but I don't want to - which is why I'm going behind his back and taking law classes instead. I want to help people and I feel that being in a position of law would better accomplish that goal than running an oil company."

Arthur didn't know why he was telling her all of this. Why was he confessing his secrets to her? He was supposed to be the perfect son, willing to follow in his father's footsteps in every way. For years he had to mold himself into an image that portrayed his abilities to rule a company he had no interest in. Perhaps since he was now away from his father's constant scrutiny his mask had slipped? Or perhaps he just couldn't bring himself to hide from this woman. She seemed to have him under some kind of spell.

Guinevere reached across the table and rested her hand over his in a comforting gesture. "Making your own path is not something that needs to be condemned. If you father loves you, which I'm positive he does, he will accept that you are your own person. You deserve to do what you feel is right."

Arthur stared down at her hand and Guinevere, realizing that she was caressing his with her thumb, immediately pulled away, gasping out an apology.

"I am so sorry!" she cried hastily, "Normally I don't do that sort of thing-I mean, taking people's hands without permission-or telling people what to do so brazenly-"

Arthur smiled as he listened to her stumble over her words. "Guinevere," he interrupted, halting her, "it's alright. I appreciate your kindness."

Her brown eyes glanced up from under her lashes and it took all of Arthur's will power to concentrate on what she was saying instead of the fantasies playing through his head.

She laughed weakly. "I tend to ramble and speak my mind; sometimes my mouth runs away with me."

"I think it's brilliant."

"Really?"

"Yes," Arthur smiled and Guinevere returned the gesture, her shoulders relaxing under his candor. "So, my offer still stands."

"Arthur… I don't even know you." With a teasing smile she continued, "For all I know you could be a serial killer."

Arthur laughed at the joke. "Because I obviously look like one."

Guinevere beamed. "Still though, I don't think I'm comfortable spending the holiday with someone I've never met before."

"Well," Arthur mused, "we have four days 'til Christmas. That's four days that you can get to know me and I you."

There, he'd finally built up the nerve to hint at his true desire. Now, with his heart pounding in his throat, he could only wait for her to respond and pray she'd understood his intentions.

Guinevere stared at him with a slight frown. "Are you asking me out?"

Arthur's face fell but not as much as his heart which dropped like a stone somewhere near his feet. She didn't seem too interested. He cleared his throat. "Well… that was my intention… but if you're not interested then –"

"I never said I wasn't," she interrupted.

Arthur looked up. "What?"

Guinevere's cheeks were tinted a lighter shade as she bit her lip a little. "I never said I wasn't interested," she repeated.

"You mean…?" Arthur grinned, his heart beginning to climb.

Guinevere let out a small laugh. "I'm not saying that I want to be your _girlfriend_ or anything. But getting to know you doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Lancelot is a little cautious but he only wants what's best for me."

"Lancelot… he's not your…?"

"No, no, not anymore," Guinevere said hastily. "We used to be but it didn't work out."

Arthur, cheered by this news, tried to contain his elation. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Guinevere smiled. "We both realized that we didn't seem to fit. That doesn't stop him from being over protective though. I swear he's more like a brother to me now. In fact, he's just as over protective as my own."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, you are worth protecting. I can understand why Lancelot would be concerned about a strange man asking you to spend the holiday with him. But I want you to know that my intentions are pure. I have no desire to harm you in any way, shape, or form."

"I suspected that to be true," said Guinevere with a smile. "That's why I decided to call you – against Lancelot's wishes."

Arthur grinned, reiterating his earlier proposal, "Does this mean that you're alright with getting to know me and possibly allowing me to indulge your company for the holiday?"

"Let's start with the getting to know you bit," Guinevere replied, her eyes sparkling. "Then we'll see about the holiday."

"I'll take whatever I can get," Arthur agreed. "So, are you free right now?"

"As it turns out, yes, I am."

"Then why don't I take you out to lunch? I know a fantastic place."

"Arthur, we're already in a cafe."

Arthur stood up. "Ahhh but there's this great restaurant a few blocks from here and the food is to die for! Not to mention the walk will be a welcoming way to start our relationship."

Guinevere smiled at him, her eyes dancing playfully. "Alright," she agreed, standing up.

His grin was wide as he held out his arm to her. Guinevere easily slipped hers through it. Leading her out of the café, Arthur felt like a king with a queen at his side; for that was how he saw Guinevere: as a precious gem that deserved the best life had to offer.

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Merlin had forgotten just how vast London was. He'd been up since the rising of the sun, eager to get a fresh start and come across as many people as possible in his search for his king. He'd surely passed by thousands of people and yet none of them looked familiar. The warlock sighed. This would have been so much easier if Arthur had just emerged from the Lake of Avalon. Why had the Old Religion reincarnated the Future King instead of simply bringing him back? Because of this Merlin was afraid that Arthur wouldn't know him when he did run into him. And that posed another question: if that was the case, would his dear friend _ever_ remember?

Merlin sighed. He'd decided to temporarily stop his search in the afternoon in order to get a bite to eat. He stared down at his soup, pushing the contents round and round, his thoughts becoming lost. Though he was happy to finally be living in the twenty first century again – modern technology was something he'd pined over after his return to Camelot all those years ago – he couldn't help but feel a little lost. He was glad he knew of the Magical Community. At least with them he had some kind of home... even though he knew it would never be complete without Arthur.

But why had Arthur been brought back now? Not that he was complaining; he just couldn't figure it out. Voldemort had just barely been defeated. His Death Eaters were still out there but Merlin didn't think it would take too long for the Ministry officials to round them up; not now that Kingsley was in charge. Merlin shook his head. It had been so long ago that he'd helped Harry fulfill his destiny and yet to the young wizard it hadn't even been a month. Merlin's life was definitely strange. But honestly, why had Arthur returned now?

Merlin was pulled from his musings when something brushed up against his pant leg. Startled, the warlock looked down to find a black cat rubbing its body repeatedly over his lower calves. Merlin looked around. He was the only customer from the café to brave being outside. The chilled weather had driven everyone else in doors but with a little bit of magic to heat up the atmosphere, Merlin was very comfortable away from the hustle and bustle inside. The quiet helped him think after all.

"Hello there," he muttered, reaching down to pet the beast. The cat's yellow eyes blinked up at him and Merlin's heart leapt. Why did he feel like he'd met this creature before? The cat's eyes closed and it began to purr as Merlin stroked its head. "Where did you come from?"

The cat let out a small mewl before suddenly running away. Merlin feared for its safety as it rushed across the road but luckily there weren't any cars in sight. The cat's target seemed to be the floral shop across the street: Lakeside Gardens. Beautiful arrangements in the traditional colors of Christmas shone from the display windows in wreaths as well as filled vases. Merlin found the creations to be quite elegant and fitting for the holiday. The black cat stopped outside the shop's door – which was strangely open – and turned to stare at Merlin one last time before slipping inside.

Merlin was about to dismiss the whole affair when his magic spiked beneath his skin. His blue eyes whirled back to the floral shop and Merlin was out of his seat before he'd even known what he was doing. His heart sped up as he neared the shop and he felt a quiet curiosity as well as dread welling within him. His magic had reacted because _Old magic_ had just been used within the store. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his power so it was just beneath his fingertips before striding inside.

Immediately he was met with the smells of cinnamon, flowers, and dirt. The shop's interior was covered with different displays from potted plants to giant floral arrangements appropriate for the season. Small pine trees in potted soil were decorated with tinsel, ornaments, and wired bows. Being attached to the Earth, Merlin found the place rather peaceful. If he hadn't been on the lookout for some form of Old magic, he would have relaxed his stance and enjoyed the thrum of comfort coming from the plant life.

"Welcome to Lakeside Gardens, how can I help you?"

Merlin whirled around. Standing behind the counter was a young woman with long brown hair and curious earthy eyes. Merlin forgot how to breathe as his heart leapt into his throat.

He nearly choked as he exhaled, _"Freya."_

"I'm sorry?" she prompted, her bright smile lowering a little from the way he was staring.

Merlin couldn't help it. It didn't make any sense. Freya was supposed to be dead, the Lady of the Lake. What was she doing in the heart of London in a flower shop? And, as painful as if was for him to realize, why didn't she appear to recognize him?

"Um, are you alright?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Do I need to call for help?"

Merlin forced a smile, trying to hide his shock as well as hurt. "No, no, that won't be necessary."

Freya smiled though she seemed nervous. Her eyes shifted a little and she appeared to have the desire to disappear. "Was there something I could help you find?"

"Actually, I was looking for a black cat," Merlin decided to say, "I saw it run in here."

Freya stiffened. "A cat? I'm afraid I haven't seen any. Sorry."

She was lying. Merlin could tell by her shifting posture and her unwillingness to look him in the eye. But why would she lie about that? Did she have something to hide?

"I don't want to hurt it," Merlin consoled. "I'm just concerned. I was eating outside of the café when it came up to me before running across the street. It didn't have any identification and I just wanted to make sure it has a home."

Freya stared at him curiously. "Not many people care about stray cats, you know – particularly _black_ ones."

Merlin gazed upon her, remembering the way she'd appeared in her bastet form all those years ago back in Camelot. Though everyone else labeled her as a beast, he saw nothing but her. "I have a certain soft spot for them," he admitted, his expression tender, "I feel they're misunderstood."

Freya's uneasy demeanor lessened a little. "You're being honest."

"Of course," Merlin answered. "I wouldn't lie about something as important as that."

And there it was: her beautiful smile he loved so much. "You're a cat lover."

"The lady has found me out," Merlin grinned, bowing slightly to her.

She laughed. "I'm Freya," she introduced.

"I'm Merlin."

Merlin froze. Had he really just introduced himself by his true name?! _He hadn't done that in centuries!_

"Merlin? Oddly, it suits you," she said, appraising him.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Yes," she laughed. "I must admit I've always had an affinity for the great wizard of legends."

Merlin stared. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was teasing him. "Well, I've always been a fan of him myself."

"Do you think he was real?"

Merlin studied her. She didn't appear to be teasing him at all. She genuinely had no idea who he really was. Oh the hurt _that_ brought! Here was the woman he'd loved for centuries yet she had no recollection of him whatsoever!

But he couldn't allow himself to despair completely; she was here, _alive!_ Even if she didn't remember him, perhaps this was fate being kind enough to give them a second chance? Well, if that were the case then he wasn't about to complain; even if he had to force his hurt aside concerning her ignorance of their history.

Swallowing past the painful lump in his throat, Merlin nodded. "I believe he was real."

"So you think magic was real too?"

Merlin had half a mind to say no but after staring into those intense brown eyes, he couldn't lie. Not to her.

"I believe it was."

Freya's shoulders seem to tighten but she kept her voice friendly. "Do you think people still have it?"

Merlin shrugged. "People may think I'm wrong but I believe some do. How else do you explain when weird things happen? Not to mention all the magic tricks people can do."

"Yeah, but those are just tricks," she countered. "Slide of hand… illusions… no, I'm talking about _real_ magic."

"Like what exactly?" Merlin wondered, slightly uncomfortable with this conversation.

"Like the kind that transforms someone into something else," she whispered so quietly he could barely hear.

"Transformations?" he prompted.

Freya suddenly looked up at him and he watched as she remarkably went from exposing raw fear to controlled, almost carefree, buoyancy. Laughing lightly she waved a hand, "Look at me, talking about nonsense. I'm sorry to prattle on. I should be asking you if you want any floral arrangements instead of your opinions on the possibilities of magic in the world."

"I don't mind," he answered. Hiding a growing suspicion over her desire to change the conversation, he decided to indulge her nonetheless. "My name often brings about the topic of magic."

"I've no doubt," she smiled, the relief in her tone practically visible that he'd taken the hint. "I don't think I've ever met someone with the name of Merlin before."

"It's a rare one," Merlin agreed, smiling. "In my defense, Freya doesn't seem to be a common name either."

"That's something we can agree on."

"Along with other things, I hope."

Freya's cheeks started to darken and she lightly bit her lip. Before she could respond, Merlin plucked a red rose from the nearest display and held it out to her. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted the bloom, lifting it to her nose to enjoy its scent. Opening her lovely brown eyes, Freya's smile widened.

"Nobody has ever given me a rose before," she admitted.

"Well then they're blind because you deserve not only one but as many as the world brings to life."

Freya's face darkened further but she was clearly pleased. Grinning, Merlin reached into his pocket and set a five pound note on the counter next to her. Freya looked at it curiously.

"What's that for?"

"Now you'll have to keep it," Merlin answered, pointing at the rose, "instead of having to put it back on the shelf."

Freya blushed even further. "Thank you, Merlin. It's lovely."

He watched as she put the flower in an empty vase on the counter, her fingers admiring the petals before turning back to him.

Merlin clapped his hands together. "So, would it be terrible if I invited you to have dinner with me?"

"It would probably be terrible having dinner with me," she softly muttered, her smile quicky fading.

"What? Why would you think that?" Merlin wondered, flabbergast, but then he remembered Freya had failed to see her worth in the past. She seemed to be having that same problem now.

"I don't know," she mumbled, her tone downcast.

Merlin took her hand and smiled warmly at her, hoping to convey all the feelings of his heart into his words. "I would consider it an absolute honor to go out with you" - he paused, wagging a playful finger - "But I have have to warn you, I tend to chase people away more often than not."

A ghost of Freya's gorgeous smile could be seen as she studied him closely. "I find that hard to believe."

Merlin grinned. "Believe me, I'm definitely not what one would consider _normal._ "

"Well then that makes two of us," she weakly smiled in return.

"Then, can it be safe for two misfits to have dinner together?" he tried again.

"I suppose so," Freya answered, her smile growing.

"Great! I can pick you up when you're done with work."

Freya glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm off in three hours."

"Then I'll return at that time."

Freya's smile was now reaching her eyes and Merlin nearly felt like his heart would burst. "I'll see you then," she said.

Sending her the biggest grin he could manage, Merlin tripped on his own two feet as he turned to head out the door. Steadying himself, he turned back to her and awkwardly waved. "Um, bye then."

Freya giggled before waving. "Bye, Merlin."

As he left the shop, Merlin had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Freya was really here, in London, and though she couldn't remember him she'd agreed to go on a dinner date with him!

So euphoric was he that he didn't feel his magic spike nor did he see the black cat now sitting on the floral counter, its nose admiring the rose he'd just given to the girl who had been standing there only moments ago.

* * *

 **Freya's back! Woohoo! And before any of you start asking: wait, how can she be back when she was dead not even a month ago when she healed Merlin in the lake at Hogwarts? That will be answered eventually, my friends. Just be patient.**

 **Right, I've had several people say they were a little confused with the timeline so I'm going to try to explain. Merlin(1) will be the Merlin we all read about in Loss and Light while Merlin(2) will be the one we're now reading about in Quest for Albion. Okay, here we go!**

 **Merlin(1) gets thrust into the nine hundreds while Merlin(2) who has lived the old fashioned way year by year up until the time Merlin(1) arrives, falls asleep in an Irish hovel until November of nineteen ninety seven. Merlin(1) returned to the past in November of nineteen ninety seven and lived naturally, becoming Merlin(2). The reason why Merlin(1) was thrust into the future was so he could gain incredible experience and knowledge that was necessary in his advisory role to Arthur as the two created Albion.**

 **So, in a nutshell:**

 **993 \- Merlin(1) arrives in time of founders/ Old Religion casts a sleeping spell over Merlin(2) in his Irish hovel where he stays undisturbed until 1997 **

**1997 \- Merlin(1) along with Once King Arthur, Gwen, and knights returned to the past/ Merlin(2) wakes up in Irish hovel and learns the Future King has returned.**

 **So, if you're following along with me here, you'll figure out that for a brief period of time _there were two sets of each of our favorite Merlin characters running around in November of 1997_ : the ones from the past and their reincarnated forms (and, in Merlin's case, his older self). Except for Freya who, like I said earlier, is a special case and her situation will be explained later in the fic. **

**Oops, I guess I sort of spoiled future chapters by telling you reincarnated forms of the knights are walking around. Hehe. Well, I felt it had to be explained and it gives you all something to look forward to! Like how I'm going to bring them all back together and if they're actually going to remember their favorite warlock! Okay, I hope I explained that in such a way that everyone understands now. Sorry this AN is so long.** **But one last thing... I can't pass up the opportunity to request for you to:**

 **Leave a review! You guys have no idea how much they boost my spirit! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews guys! The plot starts to stir here even if there's a lot of fluffy happiness going on. Patience my friends. More will be revealed soon! ;)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

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03: The Return of a Memory

Arthur felt like he was walking on a cloud as he escorted Guinevere down the street. Their lunch date had been incredibly successful, both of them laughing and enjoying each other's company almost as if they were old friends. As the two of them trundled through the winter cold, Guinevere unconsciously drew closer and Arthur found himself walking with his arm around her, his hand resting at her waist. When they stopped at a traffic light, Guinevere rested her head against Arthur's shoulder.

"This has been nice," she sighed.

"Does this mean I get a second date?" Arthur asked cheerfully though under the surface he was biting his nails. _Please say yes, please say yes…_

"I think you've earned it," she laughed, seeming to sense his silent distress.

Arthur smiled, visibly relaxing. As they walked across the street Guinevere's hand slipped into his; a perfect fit. The young law student had to fight not to whoop out loud his elation was so great. Instead he settled for squeezing his fingers slightly and was pleased to feel her respond in kind. The two of them shared a split second grin before once more directing their attention to where they were headed.

"Well, this is it," Guinevere revealed, her tone slightly nervous.

Arthur noticed that while he lived in the lifestyle of the rich and famous, Guinevere lived in a complex that was very much the opposite. It wasn't necessarily what he would consider the lowest in poverty but it was clearly not what he was used to. Still, that didn't bother him. He had never looked down on those who were less fortunate than himself, accepting that everyone came from different walks of life; it just happened to be his lot to be born into a family of considerable wealth while Guinevere had not. That didn't change his opinion of her in the slightest.

"I live on the top floor," she added after opening the gate by punching in the code.

Arthur followed after her, seeing to it that she made it to her apartment safely. Guinevere stopped at the door, her nerves clearly on edge. Arthur took her hand. "Guinevere." –She glanced up at him – "You don't have to be so nervous. I only wanted to walk you to your door."

She searched his eyes and the tension visibly left her shoulders. "Really?"

Arthur raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Really. I told you I didn't have any ulterior motives. I simply want to get to know you. And with that, I'll happily admit that I would love to take you out again tomorrow, if you'll have me."

Her smile was deep, her eyes shining with a sparkle that Arthur hoped would always be there when he gazed upon her. "I work until three. If you want we can have an early dinner, say around five?"

"Excellent! Would you like me to pick you up here, then?"

"That would be lovely."

Arthur smiled. "Five it is. See you then, Guinevere."

She then surprised him by reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "See you," she hastily replied, sending him a sheepish smile before slipping inside her flat.

Arthur stood there, somewhat dumbfounded, his fingers lingering over the cheek she'd kissed. His brain had gone fuzzy and then the strangest thing happened. A scene from long ago pushed its way to the surface of his mind…

 _He was standing in a rather small room in front of Guinevere. Her lavender dress was simple but beautiful, her curly hair pulled back save a few strands that hung loosely on either side of her face. In her hands was a white handkerchief which she presented to him._

" _Um, I thought you might wear it," she hesitantly explained, "for luck."_

 _A small half smile graced his lips as he accepted it, his heart dancing in his chest. "Thank you."_

 _She smiled at him and he couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and kissed her. The whole world seemed to brighten, his heart leaping for joy as she returned the gesture…_

Arthur staggered, gasping as he quickly walked away from Guinevere's door to lean against the balcony railing. His whole body shuddered and his mind spun. He felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs. His knees felt weak and for a moment he nearly lost the contents of his stomach.

What was going on? He'd never met Guinevere until _yesterday,_ let alone had the chance to kiss her. And yet… that kiss had seemed too _real._ Arthur shakily brought a hand up to his lips, his fingers resting against them. It was almost as if the ghost of her lips still lingered. His heart racing, Arthur glanced over his shoulder before hastily running down the stairs.

He was tired, that's what it was. He just needed to go home, take a nice long shower, and go to sleep. There was no way he was going to continued to think on that weird memory – no _, not_ a memory – lapse, yes, lapse of imagination! He'd never kissed Guinevere before. This was just his brain imagining what it would feel like… yes, that's exactly what this was!

There was no way he'd met Guinevere before. Absolutely no way…

...Right?

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Merlin had to remind himself of his true purpose for being in London as he made his way towards Freya's floral shop. As soon as his brain caught up with his heart, he remembered what happened last time: Freya had been taken from him because she was a threat to his destiny. Merlin was meant to help and protect Arthur, to see to it that no matter what he reached his status as the Once and Future King. He would never forgive himself if the past was to repeat. But that didn't mean he was going to stay away from Freya. It wasn't like he was going to spend all of his time with her instead of searching for Arthur. He'd been searching for the last three hours nonstop, determined to prove to the Old Religion that Arthur was still very much his priority.

But even warlocks had to stop to eat and that was all Merlin was doing. Freya was simply accompanying him. Besides, while he was with her he could multitask and scope out the area. Surely there wasn't anything wrong with that?

Merlin came around the corner and caught sight of his beloved. Freya had already closed up for the evening, her red jacket bundled around her tiny form as she huddled into her thick black scarf. When she caught sight of Merlin, she smiled and the warlock noticed the silent relief in her eyes.

"I promised I'd be here," Merlin greeted with a warm smile.

"You're not late," she replied sheepishly, "I just thought I'd close a little early."

"Eager are we?" Merlin teased.

"Of course I am," Freya smiled sweetly, "you're giving me a free meal."

"Oh, so you're only coming along for the food?" he asked, playfully narrowing his eyes.

"Exactly," she shrugged.

Grinning, Merlin offered her his arm and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her down the street and around the corner.

"So, Merlin, where are you from?"

Merlin glanced at her. "A little town in the north called Ealdor."

"I've never heard of it," she mused.

"That's not surprising," Merlin smiled. "You could walk right passed it and not even realize it's there." Which was technically true since all that was left of Ealdor was a forest in this day and age.

"Is it near a lake?"

"Not really but you don't have to travel far to get to the nearest one."

"I like lakes… and mountains…"

Merlin's heart clenched a little. "Did you grow up near them?"

"Not really," she confessed with a sigh. "I was born here in London and I've lived here my whole life. I moved into my own place about three years ago after both my parents died in a car accident. I opened the flower shop from the funds they left behind and I've run it ever since. My goal is to save up enough to eventually go on holiday to a place that has a cottage by a lake near the mountains… preferably when strawberries are in season..."

Merlin's throat felt raw as he practically relived the last day he'd held Freya in his arms. That had been her wish, her desire, even back then. It appeared to have followed her into this life.

"That sounds wonderful," Merlin replied after he'd gathered his emotions. "When that time comes, if you'd like some company, I'd be happy to go with you."

Freya glanced at him. "You would?"

He caught her gaze. "Of course I would. You just named off three of my favorite things: mountains, lakes, and strawberries. Combine those with your company and that's practically paradise."

Freya swatted his arm. "You're teasing me!"

"I am not," Merlin answered in all seriousness. The two of them had stopped, standing near the entrance to a park. Merlin refused to look anywhere else but into Freya's eyes.

"You're serious…" she whispered, staring at him just as intently.

"Completely."

Freya opened her mouth to speak but suddenly cried out in pain. Her knees buckled and she started to fall, her hands clutching her head. Merlin caught her before she hit the ground.

"Freya!"

She moaned, her eyes rolling. Merlin began to panic but then he felt the Old Religion calming his racing mind and heart. Whatever was happening to Freya, it wasn't going to hurt her. Merlin glanced around. He really didn't want to cause a scene. Scooping Freya's limp form into his arms, he carried her further into the park, searching for a spot he could lay her down that wouldn't cause suspicion. Finding a tree, he hastened towards it, gently setting her down at the base before sitting down himself. Positioning her head so it was resting in his lap, Merlin silently complimented himself. Now if anyone was to glance their way they wouldn't think anything was wrong. Merlin, on the other hand, didn't know exactly what was occurring and therefore was holding Freya's hand tightly in his own.

"Freya," he prompted, gently shaking her shoulder.

The girl's eyes flew wide open and she glanced around in a panic before sitting up as if to bolt. Merlin tightened his hold on her hand and Freya, feeling the pressure, finally seemed to notice him.

" _Merlin!"_ she cried. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin paused, frowning. "What do you mean? I was taking you to dinner when you suddenly passed out. Are you alright?"

Freya's adorable face scrunched up in confusion. "What? Taking me to…" then her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped open in a silent 'oh'. "I remember," she whispered.

"What?"

Her eyes grew even wider and she grabbed both of Merlin's hands. "I remember!" she repeated. "Merlin, it's _me."_

 _"Freya?"_ Merlin breathed, afraid to even hope. Could she really be?

The girl started laughing, tears coming to her eyes. "I've been given a second chance! Many of us have! We're back. _I'm_ back."

"It's really you," Merlin gasped, tears of his own forming in his eyes.

"It's really me," she repeated.

Cupping her face, Merlin brushed the stray tear away from her cheek before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her. The passionate fire ignited in his soul and his entire being seemed to sing. They broke apart and in blessed relief, both threw their arms around each other, laughing through tears.

"How is this even possible?" Merlin asked, drinking in every inch of her. "I knew that Arthur had returned – the Old Religion told me the second I woke up back in Ireland – but it didn't say anything about bringing back anyone else."

"All I remember is the Triple Goddess coming to visit me, telling me that it was time. I didn't know what she was referring to. She touched my forehead and I slipped into darkness. But… Merlin, I think I was reborn. I remember another life, one where I had loving caring parents. I grew up in London, England. I own a flower shop. And I've been able to change into a cat since birth - but it was something my parents were _adamant_ about keeping secret."

"Wait, that black cat?" Merlin interrupted. "It was you?"

Freya nodded. "I don't know how or why. That's just always how it's been. My parents were terrified the first time it happened. But I was their miracle child. They'd been trying to have children for years and when I finally came along they weren't about to get rid of me because of what I could do. Mother said that she'd seen strange things in her lifetime that couldn't be explained before. They just figured it was a gift from above. After they died, I lived as a cat for a while, wandering the streets. But then I decided to open Lakeside Gardens; though once in a while I'll still wander around the town as a cat. That's what I was doing when I found you! I was drawn to your magic!"

Merlin could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Your parents in this time period remind me of my mother: saints in disguise who accept the unexplained as being a gift instead of a curse."

"That's because you are a gift, Merlin."

He smiled at her. "So are you. I can't believe you've never been discovered by the Ministry of Magic! They should have sensed the magic you have… unless… I entered your store earlier because I felt Old magic. Maybe they couldn't detect it because it's Old instead of New."

"The Ministry of Magic," Freya repeated, her eyes scrunching up. "They're the magical government that's in charge of all the magical people in Britain correct?"

"Yes," Merlin eagerly nodded. "Do you remember me telling you about them?"

Freya nodded. "It's still a little fuzzy but I do remember. I remember things clearer from my past life when I was alive more so than when I was dead."

"I can't believe this," Merlin breathed, leaning back against the tree. "How can this be possible? How can you be living here but still be able to heal my younger self about a month ago at Hogwarts?"

Freya frowned, thinking. "I don't know Merlin. Like I said, my memories of when I was dead for some reason are harder to comprehend. Perhaps we can talk to the Triple Goddess about it?"

Merlin frowned. "Somehow I get the feeling that I'm going to be talking to her a lot in the near future," he sighed. "Anyway, you said earlier that some of you have been given a second chance. Does that mean… does that mean it's possible there are others besides Arthur and yourself who have returned?"

Freya gasped. "I know some of them have! Merlin, my roommates; they're Queen Guinevere and the witch Morgana Pendragon!"

"Morgana?!" Merlin yelped. "What is she doing here?!"

Freya rested her hand on Merlin's shoulder in earnest. "She's not bad. She's actually really nice now. She's a librarian."

"A librarian? They're _never_ nice!"

"You're being biased! Merlin, Morgana doesn't remember her past. Neither does the queen. We've been living together for the last five months."

"And yet none of you remembered anything when you were together?" Merlin wondered, still clearly terrified over the fact that Morgana of all people had been reborn. What was the Triple Goddess thinking?!

Freya shook her head. "I didn't remember anything until I met you."

"If that's the case then I can never meet Morgana," Merlin replied.

"Merlin –"

"- Can you imagine what would happen if she remembered? Wait! Does she have magic?"

Freya shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of; Merlin, I think there is a high possibility that she doesn't have it anymore. Why would the Triple Goddess give it back to her after everything she did in the past?"

"I'm not going to pretend to know why the Triple Goddess does what she does," Merlin muttered. "But I sincerely hope that you're right about Morgana not having magic. If her memories return and she does have it, we're looking at another wizarding war; one far greater than the last, which, might I add, only ended about a month ago!"

"Merlin, you need to calm down," Freya advised, taking his hand. "All will be revealed soon enough."

"I just don't want to have a repeat in history," Merlin muttered, caressing her hand in his lap without meeting her eyes. "I'm terrified that I'm going to lose you, Arthur, and everyone else all over again."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Freya assured with such confidence that Merlin dared to look at her.

"How do you know that?"

"Can't you feel it, Merlin? I don't believe the Old Religion is going to tear us apart like it did last time. I'm no longer a bastet."

"No, now you're a harmless house cat."

Freya grinned. "Yes, but that isn't a reason to kill me anymore."

"It could be! I'm meant to find Arthur. He's here, somewhere in London. What if the Old Religion thinks I'm not capable of finding him and staying with you? What if it takes you away from me again?"

"Do you really believe that will happen? Because I don't."

"How can you be so sure?"

Freya gently shrugged. "Call it a feeling. I personally believe this is a reward for everything you've done."

"A reward?"

"You suffered so much," Freya whispered, her hand cupping his face, "more so than most have ever had to bear. We watched you, Merlin, I along with your friends, as you struggled through your immortality. It was heart wrenching. The only thing that kept us going on the other side was the promise that eventually your reward would be greater than any we could possibly imagine. Now I'm here, with you. Your friends are somewhere, alive once more. And your king, he has finally returned. Everything you've ever longed for has been restored to you."

"Except Morgana," Merlin muttered. "I never thought I'd have to deal with her again. The last time I saw her, Freya, I ran her through with a sword. She's not going to get over that any time soon. Even if she doesn't have magic, she'll never change her view of the past. She'll not only hate me but all of us. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to do everything in her power to kill us using normal means."

"Merlin, don't judge her before you've even reunited with her. The Morgana I know from this life is not the same as the one from ours. She's a new person. I don't believe the Triple Goddess would have allowed her to return if she didn't desire to give Morgana a second chance. Will you deny her the chance, if she does choose to redeem herself?"

"Of course not," Merlin immediately replied. "But you can't blame me for being cautious."

Freya smiled, rubbing his hand with her thumb. "I understand. Just give her a chance."

Merlin sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll give her one but if she even so much as harms a hair on anyone else's head, I'm sending her back to Avalon."

Freya beamed before leaving him with a small kiss. "Good. Now, we should probably get something to eat. I'm hungry and so are you. After that you should rest and continue your search tomorrow for Arthur."

"And what about you? What will you be doing?"

"I have a store to run," she grinned. "Besides, I don't want to be a distraction for you. You need to be looking for Arthur."

Merlin wasn't too happy about the situation but she had a point. "You're right. But I'm going to take you to dinner tomorrow as well, no matter what."

"It's a deal," Freya laughed.

The two of them got to their feet and Merlin wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so glad you're back," he whispered into her hair. "I've missed you so much."

"As I have missed you," she muttered, pulling away to smile up at him. "Can we go somewhere that has strawberries?"

Merlin laughed. "Of course."

And taking her hand again, the two of them wandered out of the park, Merlin's heart feeling lighter than it had in many, many years.


	4. Chapter 4

04: Somerset House

Arthur didn't sleep very well last night. He'd had nightmares of running through woods while being chased by men with torches, swords, and crossbows. It was hard for him to concentrate all day and the only thing he could look forward to was meeting Guinevere around five o'clock. He'd text her in advance to suggest wearing something warm and when she opened the door, he wasn't disappointed. Her hair was hidden beneath a knitted red hat, a red scarf protected her neck, and similar knitted gloves poked out from her thick black jacket. Fuzzy black boots covered her feet, a pair of dark denim jeans tucked into each one. She appraised Arthur with a smile.

"Did I dress the part?" she wondered, slightly nervous.

Arthur leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Beautifully."

After securing her arm in his, Arthur steered her towards his red nineteen ninety eight Corvette which he'd parked just outside her complex. Guinevere hesitated when Arthur stopped in front of it and opened the door for her. Seeing her expression, Arthur swallowed nervously.

"Too much?" he guessed.

Guinevere hid her surprise though her eyes remained wide. "No, no, it's fine. I've just never been in a Corvette before."

"Oh, well, I confess it is one of my favorite cars to drive," Arthur smiled as Guinevere slipped into the passenger's seat. Taking a deep calming breath, the law student moved around and got into the driver's side. He noticed Guinevere was sitting rather stiff, almost as if she were terrified to touching anything. "You know, it's just a car," he lightly chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"A very expensive car," she amended.

"True but you don't have to be afraid to relax, Guinevere," Arthur assured as he started the engine.

"Sorry," she muttered with a slight chuckle, "I'm just not used to this."

Arthur squeezed her hand. "That's alright. Just forget you're in a Corvette."

"Too late for that," she grinned. "So, where are you taking me tonight, Mr. James?"

Arthur grinned. "Well, I know I promised dinner and I'll stick with that promise but I also wondered how you felt about ice skating."

Guinevere's eyes widened. "I've never been."

"Would you like to try it?"

She bit her lip but she was smiling. "Sure, as long as you promise not to laugh if I fall all over the place."

"Deal," Arthur promised, elated.

Ten minutes later, Arthur found a parking spot and opened Guinevere's door. The two made their way towards the large ice rink located outside, surrounded by the beautiful architecture belonging to Somerset House. A large Christmas tree greeted them, its blue lights complimenting the soft atmosphere coming from the rink where many people were already zooming around. After getting a bite to eat in the nearby lounge, Arthur and Guinevere found themselves on the ice.

While Arthur could practically skate with his eyes closed, Guinevere barely managed to stay on her feet. One of her hands was clasped with Arthur's in a death grip while the other held on to the wall on her right.

"I don't think I can do this," she muttered, eyeing the people who were flying around on the ice without a care in the world.

"Of course you can," Arthur encouraged. "It's all about balance."

"I'm sorry," she sighed after another five minutes of hugging the wall and slowly scooting along, her form wobbling all over the place.

"It's alright," Arthur smiled. "You can't expect to be like those people when it's your first time." He motioned towards a couple who were skating backwards.

"Can you do that?" she wondered, staring in awe over how effortless they made it seem.

"I'm not that good," Arthur answered, "though I can manage that particular maneuver for a couple of paces before falling over."

"Great, I'm with a professional," Guinevere mock groaned.

Arthur laughed. "You're doing fine Guinevere. Come on, why don't you let go of the rail. I promise I won't let you fall."

Her eyes widened comically and she shook her head. "No, I think I like the rail, thanks."

"Guinevere."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright, but if I fall…"

"You won't."

She looked up at him uncertainly before slowly letting her hand fall away. Her body shook a little as she cautiously propelled herself forward, her grip on him tightening – if it were possible – even more so than before. Arthur graciously didn't allow his wince to show on his face.

"There, you see," he complimented, "You're skating!"

Guinevere's smile could brighten a room. "Well, I haven't fallen yet," she laughed.

The two were interrupted as someone came to a sudden stop right next to Arthur. "Well, fancy seeing you here, princess!"

Arthur inwardly groaned. "What are you doing here, Gwaine?"

"What does it look like? I'm skating." The man said, holding out his arms with a large grin on his face. He then caught sight of Guinevere and his grin deepened. "Well, what have we here? Hi, I'm Gwaine. And you are?"

"Guinevere," she answered, a little preoccupied with making sure she didn't fall over.

"Are you here with Arthur?"

"Yes she is and you'd be wise to leave us in peace," Arthur somewhat snapped.

Gwaine didn't heed his small warning in the slightest. "Where did you two meet? Last I heard princess wasn't seeing anyone."

"Will you stop calling me that?!" Arthur demanded, mortified that this man had interrupted what was once a wonderful evening.

Ignoring him, Gwaine waited for Guinevere to answer his question.

"We met the other day," she answered finding the way he teased Arthur to be rather amusing. "Arthur's being kind enough to teach me how to skate."

"Are you sure you want to be learning from him? He isn't that great of a teacher."

"Gwaine," Arthur ground out, "if you have any sense of self preservation you'll be gone by the time I count to three."

Flipping a loose lock of long dark hair from his face, Gwaine burst out laughing. "Fair enough, princess, I can see why you want to be alone. You've found a gem amidst the coals. I envy you. I was about to leave anyway… it's as good a time as any to get some ale."

And with a small wave and a wink directed towards Guinevere, Gwaine skated away, gracefully wrapping his arm around an unsuspecting girl and kissing her cheek. He spun her in a circle before making his way for the exit.

"Git," Arthur murmured under his breath as Guinevere laughed.

"Well, he certainly is interesting."

"Indeed," Arthur groaned, pinching his nose. "I'm sorry. He's my neighbor."

"And your friend?" she guessed.

Arthur stared after the long haired man. "So it would seem," he admitted.

Before Guinevere could say more, Arthur froze. Sitting at one of the tables Gwaine passed by -with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands- was a man Arthur hadn't seen since he'd left America. Leon Young was a man in his late twenties, six years Arthur's senior, and was loyal to the Head family to a fault. But Leon was the head of his father's security. What was he doing here?

"Arthur? Are you alright?"

Arthur turned his attention back to Guinevere. "I'm fine," he smiled. "Say, why don't we take a break and get some hot chocolate? I don't know about you but it's pretty cold out here."

Guinevere was all too happy to get off the ice, leaping at the opportunity with an eagerness that left Arthur inwardly chuckling. Helping her along, the two eventually made it to the exit and removed their skates. After replacing their shoes, Arthur took Guinevere's hand and started making his way to the nearest hot chocolate stand, his gaze occasionally flitting towards Leon who hadn't moved from his chair.

Joining the line, Guinevere pulled away. "I'm going to find a bathroom. I'll be right back," she promised.

Arthur smiled at her. "I'll be right here."

He watched her until she disappeared inside before checking to see if Leon was still there. The man hadn't moved, his gaze wandering across the crowd, seeming to be a simple observer. Arthur scowled. He had a pretty good suspicion as to why Leon was here. His father had sent a babysitter; clearly he was afraid of leaving his son in a city that seemed to be the target of unknown terrorists. But nothing had happened since the bridge accident and Arthur didn't think anything else was going to occur any time soon.

No sooner had the thought gone through his head that someone let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Arthur whirled around just in time to see a jet of green light fall from the sky, slamming into a woman on the ice who fell right where she stood. She didn't get up. A moment of silence and then full blown panic; everyone started screaming, pushing, and shoving each other to get as far away as possible for further jets of green light began to rain down at angles from the balcony structures surrounding the rink.

Arthur traced the trajectory and watched in horrified fascination as he counted ten people clad in strange black robes. Each was brandishing a thin stick which appeared to be the source of the green light that was attacking the innocent.

"Arthur!"

The young law student was suddenly shoved roughly in the side, crashing to the ground. A jet of green light exploded the cement he'd been standing on not even a second before. Arthur registered the face of Gwaine as his neighbor pulled both of them to their feet.

"Gwaine! What the heck is going on?" Arthur demanded.

"I don't know but we've got to get out of here!" Gwaine shouted over the screams of terror.

Popping noises sounded all around them and Arthur's eyes widened as people seemed to appear from thin air but, unlike the attackers, these strangers were dressed in various colored robes, some even sporting pointed hats. They pulled their own sticks from out of their robes and immediately started waving them through the air. Strange lights varying from blue, purple, and red flew through the air and the black-robed terrorists had to cease in their attacks of green light to shield themselves from the onslaught.

Arthur watched as one jet of blue light transformed into a string of chains, lassoing one of the attackers. They lost their balance and fell from the balcony they were perched upon, a scream coming from their lips as they tumbled towards the ground. Another stick wave from a woman to Arthur's right produced a whip of fire which was met in midair with one of ice, the two slamming into each other with a force that caused the air to tremble.

"Mr. Head, we need to leave!"

"Leon!" Arthur cried as the man grabbed his arm. How he managed to find him in this chaos was a miracle.

"It's not safe here, sir!" he persisted, yanking on Arthur's jacket to make him move.

It was then that Arthur realized someone incredibly important was missing. "Guinevere! Leon, Gwaine, we have to find her!"

"In this?" Gwaine shouted, gesturing to the bizarre fight occurring all around them. "Arthur, she's likely to have run out on her own!"

"You don't know that," Arthur countered. "I'm not leaving her. Whoever these people are, they're dangerous! I'd never forgive myself if we left her behind and something they did caused her harm!"

Gwaine swore, running a hand through his long locks. "Fine!" he snapped. "But if we die, I'm blaming you!"

Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon started making their way towards the lounge, pushing and shoving terrified people out of their way while avoiding streaks of light flying in all directions. One actually slammed into the ice rink, causing it to explode. Chunks of ice flew everywhere, one actually ramming into Arthur's shoulder. Arthur winced and rubbed at the offended area, knowing that it was definitely going to bruise. They had almost reached their destination when a deafening crash of thunder rattled their eardrums followed by a flash of lightning which illuminated the middle of the rink.

Arthur didn't know what compelled him to turn around and freeze but he found his body unable to move, his eyes trained on the man who had magically appeared on the ice. Gwaine and Leon had also stopped moving, seemingly in the same trance as he. The young man that captured their attention radiated a power that caused Arthur's very soul to quiver. His short black hair was tousled about on his head over a pair of rather large ears. His lanky frame seemed to hold just fine considering he was standing in the middle of a half demolished ice rink. But what impressed Arthur the most was that the other men and women holding sticks had ceased their attacks on both sides.

The man on the ice raised his hands, his palms pointing on either side towards the attackers in black. _**"Abanatae!"**_ he shouted, his voice echoing around the square as if he'd spoken into a microphone. His eyes flared gold as he yanked his arms against his body. As if seized upon by some invisible cord, the black-robed assailants flew through the air, their bodies zooming towards him like a fish being dragged through the water by a fishing line. A foot away from the man, their bodies slammed into an invisible barrier and the attackers fell like flies around him. They didn't get back up.

Arthur's jaw had dropped and he fought to be able to get a better view as the few straggling citizens in the attack ran as fast as they could away from the scene. The men and women clad in colorful robes eyed the man in the middle of the rink before turning their backs to him and waving their sticks at random people rushing past. A silvery-like substance flew from the tip of the sticks, making contact with their intended targets. Those who experienced this anomaly froze in place, their eyes suddenly glazing over before gently falling to the ground.

Out of pure instinct Arthur knew he needed to hide. Grabbing Gwaine and Leon by the shoulder, he shoved them down on their hands and knees.

"Geez, princess!" Gwaine protested.

"Quiet!" Arthur snapped. "Though I don't think those people mean to harm us, I don't think we should get hit with that silvery stuff their creating, do you?"

Gwaine and Leon had to agree with him. The three men crawled forward until they were up against the barrier to the rink, peeking just barely over the edge.

"What do you think they're doing?" Leon whispered, watching as more and more people gently fell after being hit with the silver haze.

"I don't know but I don't like it," Gwaine mumbled.

"Quiet," Arthur commanded.

Gwaine glared at him but Arthur wasn't paying attention. Instead he was straining his hearing towards the conversation taking place between the man on the ice and a woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"Lucky you showed up when you did," the woman was saying.

"I happened to be in the neighborhood," the young man answered. His face was one of disapproval as he witnessed the others hit people with the silver mist over the woman's shoulder. "They know it's pointless to even attempt to obliviate them, surely?"

"It's protocol," the woman shrugged.

"It's wrong," the man snapped.

The woman sighed. "Merlin, I know that you don't approve of it but muggles can't know about us."

"Magic isn't something that should be hidden, Tonks," Merlin argued. "There was once a time when it existed just fine with those of the nonmagical community."

"Well you'll have to forgive the rest of us who have never experienced that," Tonks replied in a strained tone. "The world isn't ready to know about us yet, Merlin."

"I'm not sure I agree with you," Merlin sighed. "But I have other things to do besides arguing about altering muggle memories."

Tonks observed him for a moment. "Have you found him yet?"

Merlin's shoulders slumped. "No, not yet. London is a pretty big place. But don't worry, Tonks. I won't stop until I do. That prat of a king can't hide from me forever."

"I hope you're right," Tonks smiled.

Merlin gestured to the unconscious men and women around him. "Can you take care of these guys for me?"

Tonks nodded. "I'll see to it they make it to Azkaban. Ten more of Voldemort's followers. Are you sure you don't want to help with the Death Eater clean up? This is the second round you've taken down."

Merlin shook his head with an exasperated smile. "Don't worry, Tonks. Once I've found my king, I'm sure I'll be able to join you in a few more rodeos."

Tonks laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Merlin."

He returned the gesture, "You too."

Arthur watched as the young man then proceeded to walk off the ice - until he slipped. He managed to catch himself after pinwheeling his arms a couple times but Arthur couldn't help the light snicker followed by a small insult. "Idiot," he whispered.

Gwaine and Leon looked at him curiously but Arthur ignored them as confusion and a slight headache began to pound behind his eyes. Something was just beyond his grasp, something he felt was so incredibly important, but he couldn't reach it. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore the nagging feeling and turned his attention back to the rink.

Despite the man's near fall, the other men and women with sticks were gazing upon him with what Arthur could only describe as awe, each of them watching him until he had left the area. The moment he was gone Arthur felt the need to follow him but he couldn't risk exposing himself to these people. So he stayed put; as much as it irked him. It was a long time before he and the others removed themselves from their hiding place. Arthur's thoughts were traveling so fast in a blur of confusion that he didn't know how to process anything at all.

* * *

 **I know it was short but this was a great place to stop. Yay! Arthur saw Merlin! Even though our favorite warlock was so troubled by finding his king that he didn't even realize he was right there! Oh, Merlin. Don't worry, you'll see him soon. Maybe. Unless my muse says otherwise...**

 **Leave a review please! I'll try to have the next chapter up in a couple of days.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! Thank you for the reviews. This chapter is one that I am very excited to share. I really want to know your thoughts so if you don't mind leaving a little review after you're done, that would be grand! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: same as always; I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter.**

* * *

05: Memory of a Crown

Merlin could not believe what had happened. He'd heard of the Death Eater attacks but he didn't think he'd be in the area when one occurred. The last time he'd taken down a group of them, a week after he'd woken, they'd tried to ransack Diagon Alley. Seeing them attacking muggles… Merlin _had_ to step in. The fight between them and the Aurors had caused an even bigger scene anyway which meant more muggles who would later suffer being rounded up for memory modification. Merlin hated that. He didn't agree at all with forcing people to forget magical events.

Sighing, he hung his head and made his way down the sidewalk. He'd dropped Freya off at her apartment after an early dinner and was on his way back to his hotel when the idiots decided to disturb the peace. Why were the Death Eaters attacking muggles in random places throughout Britain? It didn't make sense. London was dealing with the crux of it but the surrounding areas were falling prey to black magic as well. Merlin would have suspected Morgana's reincarnated form being behind this if Freya hadn't insisted that the woman had changed her tune.

Though Merlin believed her, he still had a hard time wrapping his head around it all. How many times in the past had he hoped Morgana would repent and come back to Camelot as a friend? Did he dare hope that she was genuine this time, that she didn't have a hidden agenda? Merlin didn't think he'd be able to stand another betrayal. If Morgana was good, and she did have magic, Merlin was determined not to repeat any mistakes he'd made in the past. This time he would help her. He'd make sure she didn't feel alone.

He was in the elevator heading back to his hotel room when his phone began to ring. It was Freya.

"Hey," he wearily greeted.

"Why do I get the feeling you already know what I'm going to talk about?" she asked.

"Does it have something to do with the incident at Somerset House?"

"It's all over the news, Merlin," Freya informed. "People are talking about seeing jets of light that murdered others without a hint of injury. Even more voiced that they saw two groups fighting with sticks that emitted weird lights capable of causing harm. And a few say a man showed up and ended the conflict – but that's more rumor than fact."

Merlin rubbed his eyes tiredly. "The Death Eaters were killing people in another raid. The Aurors from the Ministry showed up to deal with them but there were already so many people witnessing the fight. I cast a temporary spell that ruined all technology in a five mile radius but there were a few people who saw me take down the Death Eaters." He let out a heavy sigh. "I couldn't just stand there while they were hurting people, Freya."

"Oh, Merlin. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured wearily. "I'm just glad I could help. There's so much going on in the Wizarding World but I'm supposed to find Arthur first. It's proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be."

"Then you'll be happy to know that I've decided to start looking for him too," she revealed. "I'll wander the streets as a cat on my breaks."

Merlin smiled. "Thank you for the help, Freya. It means a lot."

"It's the least I can do."

"I appreciate it just the same. Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay but come for lunch. I'm going to make you something."

Merlin blinked, pleasantly surprised. "You're going to cook?"

Freya laughed. "Just because you snuck food to me in the catacombs all those years ago doesn't mean I never learned how to fend for myself you know. I'm actually quite good in the kitchen. I'll make you one of my favorite dishes."

Merlin was grinning now, all weariness forgotten. "I look forward to it. What time?"

"Come around two," she said after a moment of thought.

"I'll be there."

"Great! Good night, Merlin."

"Good night." Lowering his phone into his pocket, Merlin leaned against the elevator wall and stared up at the ceiling. "Arthur, where are you?" he whispered aloud.

[][][]

After the strange people in cloaks disappeared, Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon stumbled out of their hiding place, glancing around warily even though the area was deserted.

Gwaine stretched, working out the kinks in his stiff muscles. "Well, I think I've had enough fun for one night, wouldn't you say?"

"I still don't exactly know what all of that was about," Leon admitted.

"That man, Merlin, he was talking about magic and memory modification," Gwaine pointed out. "If I didn't see what was going on with my own eyes I'd say he was drunk- although, it could have been a fancy light show gone wrong."

"I wish that were the case but you and I both know it wasn't," said Arthur flatly. "People were dying Gwaine. _Normal_ people. You can't tell me that all of the dead bodies those weird people carted off were part of an act."

"Not to mention the state of this place," Leon voiced, his eyes directed to the rink which was now smooth. The entire area appeared to be just as it had been when there were hundreds of people here: not even a hint of destruction suggesting a battle of magic had taken place; for that was exactly what it was, though Arthur really didn't want to believe it.

Magic.

He'd just witnessed a _magic_ fight.

Arthur's head started to pound. He really wanted to go home and lie down to process everything he'd just witnessed but that had to wait until he found Guinevere and made sure she was safe. Pulling out his phone, he didn't even bother to text.

She answered after one ring. "Arthur?"

"Guinevere, thank heaven," Arthur sighed in relief.

"Where are you?" she demanded though she was clearly as relieved as he from the sound of her voice.

"I'm still at the rink."

"What? But there was an attack! I've been so worried. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Whoever they were, they're gone now. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. When the attack started I tried to look for you but there were so many people..."

"I know," she replied, apologetic, "I was trying too but the crowd pushed me out into the street. I figured the same thing had happened to you. I called you on your cell several times but you never answered. Arthur, I tried to run back to find you but an officer stopped me. He told me to go home and he wouldn't let me out of his sight until I turned away. I feel so horrid. I'm so sorry, Arthur. I–"

"Guinevere, it's alright," he soothed. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I could have slipped back in when he wasn't looking…"

"I'm glad you didn't," said Arthur truthfully. "Your safety is more important to me than my own."

"Don't say such things," she admonished. "You're just as important!"

Arthur found himself smiling. "Thank you, Guinevere."

Guinevere paused. "Arthur, I am sorry I went home without you."

"Don't worry about it, really," he stated. "You can make it up to me by allowing me to bring you breakfast tomorrow."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "That would be lovely."

"Until then, sleep well."

"You too, Arthur. Bye."

"Bye Guinevere."

Arthur hung up and turned to his companions. "Guinevere's home safe and sound which leads me to my next concern: Leon, what are you doing here?"

The older man ran a hand through his long tight curls. Without meeting Arthur's gaze, he answered, "Your father has been rather apprehensive about the attacks concerning London."

"So he sent you here to babysit."

"He wanted to make sure you were alright."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't need a security guard, Leon. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I know," Leon answered with a kind smile, "but you can't stop your father from worrying, Arthur. He cares deeply for you."

Arthur sighed, "I know but I don't approve of him sending you here without telling me."

"You only would have argued if he did," said Leon and from Arthur's silence he knew the young man agreed with him.

"So you've been tailing the princess since you arrived?" Gwaine surmised with a slight grin.

Arthur scowled at him for the nickname while Leon, silently showing his amusement towards it, nodded. "I've been here for about three weeks. Don't worry, Arthur, I haven't told your father what you've been up to."

Arthur stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't think the owner of Head Oil would appreciate his son lying to him about studying business when he's actually working towards a career in law," Leon replied though he wasn't disapproving. In fact, Arthur's old friend had a smile on his face.

Arthur groaned. "Leon, please don't tell him."

"I'm not going to," he promised, "if he is to find out, it won't be from me."

Arthur took Leon by the shoulder and squeezed it gratefully. "Thank you."

"So, who's up for a drink?" Gwaine asked jovially now that the tension had passed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You may be up for it Gwaine but I definitely feel I've had enough excitement for one day."

"You're going home? Come on, Arthur, it's not even eleven!"

"Then take Leon with you."

"Me? But sir–"

Arthur grinned, patting Leon encouragingly on the shoulder. "Go on, Leon. Since you've been here I'm sure you have yet to experience a European bar. Lucky for you Gwaine knows them all and can take you somewhere you'll be sure to enjoy."

"I don't know," Leon muttered, visibly conflicted. He wasn't here to drink but obviously Arthur wanted some time alone.

Gwaine slung an arm over Leon's shoulder. "Come on, mate. Clearly the princess desires a night without his knight in shining armor watching over him."

Arthur ground his teeth together. "Gwaine, so help me…"

His neighbor merely grinned at him, wiggling his eyebrows – clearly daring Arthur to do something. But Arthur didn't have the energy. Rolling his eyes, he merely huffed and started walking away from the two of them.

"Go with Gwaine, Leon," he called over his shoulder. "I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

Without a backward glance, he left a slightly protesting Leon with Gwaine, fully trusting that the latter would stick with him. Gwaine may be a lot of things but he was a man who, despite his flaws, would always look out for his friends and Arthur had no doubt that by the end of the night the two men would become such. Gwaine was an easy man to get along with. Even Arthur had found they were friends not long after he met him. He supposed that was because Gwaine had saved his life when some idiots decided to try to beat him up outside of a bar. It had been five against one and though Arthur handled himself well enough with his fists, he wasn't a match for the gun one of them pulled out. If Gwaine hadn't appeared and removed the gun when he did, Arthur may not even be alive today. It was after that incident he learned Gwaine was his neighbor. Ever since then, the two were on good terms; even if Gwaine tended to annoy him to no end with his mindless chatter.

Walking against the wind, Arthur hunched his shoulders and burrowed further into the scarf around his neck. Reaching his car, he quickly got inside and made the short trip back to his apartment, his mind turning from Gwaine and Leon to the attack he'd witnessed earlier at the rink. He still couldn't believe what he'd seen but he also couldn't deny what it was. Minutes later he was in his apartment, heading straight for his laptop instead of for his bed. There was no way he could sleep when so many thoughts traipsed through his mind.

Arthur drummed his hands on the table, waiting for his computer to load. It seemed to take forever before he was able to open the internet and begin his search. The first thing he typed in was 'magic', scrolling until he found various sites explaining the paranormal and supernatural. Clicking on these, he read several articles until he came across one having to do with the witch hunts during the sixteen hundreds. An unpleasant shiver ran through him and Arthur found his stomach churning uncomfortably. Closing the article, he rested his head in his hands, his mind automatically reflecting back on the man who'd stopped the chaos with a single word.

Though he couldn't explain why, Arthur felt like he knew him. But he'd never seen the man before tonight. What had that pink-haired woman called him?

"Merlin," he muttered aloud.

The name fell from his tongue as if he'd been saying it his whole life and the moment it passed his lips he felt his brain pound against his skull so forcefully that nausea overtook him. Groaning and trying to keep himself from losing the contents of his stomach, Arthur rubbed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths through his nose. Once the sickness had passed, Arthur typed the name 'Merlin _'_ into his search bar.

Of course the first things to pop up were illustrations of an old man with white hair and a beard that extended past his waist. He wore flowing robes – mostly blue, Arthur noticed – and occasionally held a staff in his hand. Something about the image just didn't sit right with Arthur and he almost found himself laughing over how ridiculous the idea of Merlin as an old man seemed. Perhaps that was because the man he'd seen in the rink was nothing like the pictures of Merlin on his computer. But there was no way the man at the rink could be the same Merlin from the legends he'd heard growing up concerning King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table! Arthur scoffed at himself. What was he doing looking up things about myths and magic? It was utter nonsense!

 _Ahhh_ , said a voice in his head, _but if it was then what did you see tonight? Could it really be so far-fetched that the man you saw was none other than the great wizard of legends?_

"It isn't possible," Arthur muttered to himself, staring at one of the images of Merlin. He suddenly found himself sad at the spoken scoff though he couldn't fathom why.

Rubbing his eyes again, Arthur decided he'd had enough. He couldn't think clearly. Magic, Merlin, the ideas were absurd and yet an unexplainable part of him longed to know more, to understand. Those men and women at the rink had been casting spells using wands; he wasn't fool enough to think they had been part of some 'flashy light show gone wrong'. He'd witnessed people die. He'd watched as others hit by that silver mist stood up and walked away from the scene with glazed eyes and carefree strides. He had seen the sorcerers use their wands to repair all the damage caused from the fight, leaving the area spotless and evidence free. But most of all, how could he forget the one called Merlin who, with a mere word and a thrust of his hands, ended the conflict? He hadn't had a wand like the others and the power Arthur felt from the foreign word Merlin had shouted was undeniably real.

Who were these people? And what of Merlin? Was he really the same wizard from Arthurian legend?

Arthur had always been fascinated with the story of King Arthur and Camelot. He'd often found he could relate to it since many of the characteristics of the ancient king seemed so similar to his own. But Arthur wasn't sure he believed in everything about the legends. For one, he didn't believe Merlin was an old man who practiced magic and raised a boy to become the king. Personally he considered Merlin more to be a friend, someone the king could confide in. Arthur also didn't believe most of the tales concerning the Knights of the Round Table; there was just something that didn't sit right about their supposed backgrounds and adventures. Arthur couldn't put his finger on it but he felt scholars had more speculation than fact pertaining to this particular moment in history.

Staring at the images of the old wizard one last time, Arthur hastily shut his computer, uncomfortable with the entire subject all together. Shaking his head, he stood up and got ready for bed. By the time he actually reached his pillow he was so exhausted that he immediately fell to sleep.

 _He was striding down the middle of an assembled body of people, his long red cape swaying slowly with each step he took. He felt the burden of the kingdom in every stride but that didn't deter him from eventually reaching the throne sitting empty ahead of him. A red banner containing the emblem of a golden dragon rested against the stone wall behind the throne. Tall candelabras stood on either side of the magnificently carved chair emitting a soft glow even as the sun shone down from high windows._

 _Every head was bowed until he passed, each gathered soul displaying their respect and support for the event that was about to take place. Geoffrey of Monmouth stood to the right of the throne, his hands holding the golden crown of Camelot's past kings. Resting his knees on the steps directly in front of the throne, Arthur kept his eyes trained straight ahead with determination while his heart pounded within his breast._

 _Geoffrey of Monmouth began, "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?"_

" _I solemnly swear so to do," Arthur answered, somber._

" _Will you, to your power, cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all your judgments?"_

" _I will."_

 _Geoffrey stepped closer, raising the crown above Arthur's head. "Then by the sacred law vested in me, I crown you Arthur, King of Camelot."_

 _The burden he'd already felt on his shoulders now rested on his head but Arthur would not allow any to see his inward fear. The entire land had been entrusted to his charge and though he did not feel he was ready, his father's death had made it necessary for him to take up the responsibility of governing and protecting his kingdom. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life and he would not dare let his people down now, not when they needed him._

 _Keeping his head held high and his eyes straight forward, Arthur rose with regality, twisting around to face the gathered crowd. Among them stood his most loyal knights, dear friends who had pledged their lives to his service. The woman who held his heart possessed a smile that radiated like the sun outside, her pride and love shining from her eyes as she joined the throng in the repeated shout, "Long live the king!"_

 _Arthur discreetly looked to his left towards his most trusted friend. A man who had stood by him through thick and thin, who was the first to see and treat him as none other had. Merlin's eyes shone with a pride and confidence that truly humbled Arthur and after a moment he allowed his voice to join the others, though Arthur heard it above the rest._

" _Long live the king!"_

Arthur jerked awake. Sweat covered his entire body and his lungs heaved for air as he sat up holding his head in his hands. Even now the weight of the golden crown felt as if it were on his head. Arthur rubbed his scalp almost expecting to discover it there but nothing obstructed his probing fingers. The ghostly voices cheering in his dream seemed to whisper throughout his room.

Leaping from the bed, he rushed into his bathroom and splashed cold water repeatedly over his face. Even so, he couldn't get the dream to leave him. He was terrified for he couldn't fully explain why this dream had felt so real. Nor could he understand how he'd recognized Leon, Gwaine, Guinevere, the man named Merlin from the ice rink, and even his father's personal doctor, Gaius Wilson, in the crowd as he'd been crowned as the king of Camelot.

Arthur looked at his reflection. His eyes displayed his inner terror and confusion. Had all of this been brought on simply because he'd been looking up Arthurian legends before heading to bed? People often said that dreams were the results of things on your mind combined with experiences you had during the day.

But this hadn't been a dream. It had been _too real_ to be one.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat and he found himself pulling out his phone before he stopped himself. It was three o'clock in the morning. There wasn't a point waking Guinevere when he was just going to see her in a few hours. But he desperately wanted to talk to someone! He felt like his entire world was shattering around him. Nothing made sense. His heart was telling him that his dream wasn't a dream but how could he possibly accept that he had once been King Arthur of Camelot? _It was ludicrous!_

And yet if felt right.

And that _terrified_ him.

Arthur started to hyperventilate. Even if he told Guinevere about his dream – memory – _whatever!_ – what were the odds that she would believe him? Arthur suddenly had to laugh. He'd fallen for a girl whose name was Guinevere who just happened to be friends with a man named Lancelot. His next door neighbor was Gwaine and the man he'd seen at the rink had been called Merlin. It couldn't be a coincidence!

Then Arthur froze as the answer seemed to hit him on the head.

 _Merlin._

The Merlin from the rink had used magic. The Merlin from the Arthurian Legends had magic. The Merlin from his dream looked exactly like the one he saw at the rink. If there was a chance that the two were one in the same, Arthur had to know. If he found Merlin then maybe everything would start to make sense! Filled with purpose, Arthur decided that tomorrow when he met with Guinevere, he'd tell her his thoughts and enlist her help to find the man he hoped could answer all the questions running through his mind. Nodding to himself, he made his way back to bed and closed his eyes, silently praying he wouldn't have another dream-memory; he didn't know if he could handle another one before the morn.

But sleep never came.

For the next five hours Arthur tossed and turned, his brain spiraling with thoughts of magic, knights, adventures, and tournaments. It was a huge relief when the time was reasonable enough to go and see Guinevere. Without much care, Arthur dressed himself, threw on his hat and coat, and ran out the door. Running down the stairs three at a time, he hastily made it to his car and drove to the nearest place serving breakfast; though he wasn't hungry himself, he didn't think it would do to break his promise of bringing a morning meal.

Twenty minutes later he was at Guinevere's complex, breathless, his heart pounding. Swallowing his nerves, Arthur hit the buzzer connecting to her flat.

Guinevere's voice came through the speaker. "Hello?"

"Guinevere? Sorry I didn't text you," Arthur said, speaking into the box.

"Arthur! Oh, that's fine. You did say you'd be coming for breakfast. Hang on; I'll let you in."

Arthur's heart was in his throat when Guinevere appeared in a pair of light blue jeans, a long green sweater, and brown boots. The moment she saw him her smile faltered, concern swimming in her eyes.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

Arthur tried to find his voice but it seemed to have abandoned him. He merely shook his head. Guinevere opened the gate and rested a hand on his arm, her eyes searching his.

"You look like you've hardly slept."

"I didn't," he admitted, his voice hoarse. Clearing it, he continued, "I have something to tell you."

"Okay," she replied, worried. "Do you want to come up?"

"What? Oh, yes."

Keeping her hand on his arm, Guinevere led the way up the stairs. Arthur hardly paid attention to the details of her home. He had enough of a mind to note that the front door immediately led into the kitchen before he turned to the right where the living room was. There was a small hallway passed the kitchen and living room that led back to the bathroom and private rooms. After settling down on the couch, Arthur remembered what occupied his hands.

"I brought you breakfast," he stated, numbly holding out the paper sack containing a muffin with one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "I would have taken you out but…"

"No, this is fine," Guinevere smiled, taking the offered food only to set it aside. "Arthur, what's troubling you?"

Arthur rested his head in his hands, unable to look at her. Running his hands through his hair, he took a deep breath. "Guinevere, I think I may be going crazy. I don't even know if you're going to believe me."

"Is this about what happened yesterday? I saw the attack, Arthur. Did you learn something about them? Are you in trouble?"

"What? No! I mean, it has something to do with them, but… there's also something else…"

Guinevere frowned, scrutinizing him. Taking one of his hands, she calmly suggested, "Then tell me everything that's on your mind."

Arthur stared at her, finding nothing but trust and concern radiating behind her beautiful brown eyes. Taking a very deep breath, he told her everything. He didn't leave out a single detail, even when it came to his dream. He was terrified and he faltered quite a bit but he nevertheless plowed on. By the time he finished, Guinevere's expression was both shocked and contemplative. Her eyes shifted back and forth and her lower lip remained between her teeth.

"That dream... it was so _real,_ Guinevere... You probably think I'm mad," Arthur muttered, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

Guinevere looked at him in surprise. "Arthur," she soothed, her hands covering his, "I don't think you are."

"You don't?"

She shook her head. "Even if I hardly know you, you're not the type of person who would lie about something like this. Besides, I saw the magic last night with my own eyes." She paused. "Arthur, do you think the attack last night is similar to the others that have been going on for the last few weeks?"

He frowned. "I hadn't thought about it but I wouldn't be surprised. The authorities have released little to no information as to who is behind them and nobody seems to know how they were even caused."

Guinevere sank back into the couch cushions, her brow furrowed. "It's hard to believe something like magic is real when I've always considered it as fantasy."

"I know. Guinevere, do you… do you believe that I might actually have been…" Arthur couldn't bring himself to finish his question.

Guinevere looked uncertain again. "I don't really know, Arthur. But I believe you're right in the idea of finding this Merlin person. From what you said, he seems to be looking for his king. If he is the Merlin from legend and your dream isn't really a dream but a memory, then he's looking for _you._ You need to find him."

"Will you help me?" Arthur asked desperately.

"Of course," she replied immediately without hesitation. "I may be just as involved in this as you are. Besides, even if I'm not, I wouldn't let you go through this alone."

Arthur's gaze softened as his fingers tightened between hers. "Thank you, Guinevere. Your opinion concerning this matter means the world to me. I'm grateful you don't believe I'm some kind of nutter."

"I would never think that," she assured, smiling.

Arthur sighed. "Do you think that if we do find Merlin that he could help?"

"I believe he can," she opined before jumping to her feet and throwing her coat over her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, slowly rising to his feet.

"Well, we can't very well just sit around and expect him to walk through the front door," she said, tying her scarf around her neck.

Arthur's surprise was clear as he watched her finish bundling herself up. "We're going to look for him _now?"_

"Of course," she replied, taking his hand and leading him out of the flat. "I have the next five days off work and you don't seem to have anything better to do. The sooner we find him, the sooner he'll be able to answer any questions we have."

Eternally grateful that a woman he'd barely met would throw herself so selflessly into his life, Arthur smiled and allowed her to pull him along behind her down the stairs; the small breakfast he had brought earlier was left utterly forgotten on the coffee table.

* * *

 **Writing out Arthur's coronation scene was one of my favorite parts of this chapter. That and his researching magic and Merlin on the internet. XD Leave a review, please? :3**


	6. Chapter 6

06: Strength, Loyalty, Chivalry, Protection, and Honesty

Merlin was slightly disheartened as he made his way to Lakeside Gardens. He'd been searching all morning for his king but Arthur was being irritatingly elusive. Though he'd only begun his search Merlin couldn't help but inwardly grumble. The last time he'd waited around for Arthur, the Old Religion had practically dropped him at his feet in the Forbidden Forest. Why couldn't it have done that this time? Merlin scowled as he thought about his fruitless efforts. If he didn't have the reassurance that Arthur was here, he would have given up and returned to Ireland to live as a hermit for another three centuries. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't. But it was still frustrating!

Merlin's inner turmoil was interrupted when he stepped through Freya's flower shop to find a familiar figure leaning against the counter talking to his beloved. Her hair flowed loose and long down her back over a red plaid coat. Black jeans and black knee-high boots covered her thin legs. With porcelain skin that brought out the unique gray-green eyes, Merlin stared into the curious gaze of a modern day Morgana Pendragon.

Behind the counter, Freya sent Merlin a pleased smile. "Merlin, you're a little early."

"I hope that's not a problem," he answered, fumbling over his words do to the shock of seeing his greatest foe standing in the shop without a hint of ill-will towards him.

"Not at all," Freya said, smiling warmly.

Morgana's gaze sparked with interest as she appraised Merlin up and down. "So this is the guy you were telling me about last night?" She strode forward and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Morgana McGrath. It's nice to know the boy who finally swept Freya off her feet."

Gone was the smirk, the distrust, and the malicious intent; all that Merlin saw was a girl who genuinely cared for her friend. Merlin's shock deepened.

"Merlin Emrys," he introduced, numbly shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Morgana."

Her smile was wide and innocent as she playfully turned to Freya and said, "Should I leave the two of you alone or are you going to need a chaperone?"

Both Freya and Merlin turned as red as Morgana's coat.

"Morgana!" Freya cried, exasperated.

The young woman only laughed and it was the same laugh she'd had before she'd turned to evil. Merlin couldn't believe it. She really wasn't the same person. He felt a weight settle over his chest, however, as he silently wondered how long that would last. When would she remember as Freya had? Her carefree, unburdened smile would surely turn into a hardened glare when she recalled the last time they met. Merlin had run her through with a sword, after all, and that wasn't easily forgiven.

"Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin's eyes snapped up to notice Morgana staring at him with genuine concern. "I-I'm fine," he answered, trying to smile.

"You do look a little pale," Freya commented, trying to pretend that she didn't already know the reason why.

"I'm fine," Merlin insisted, "Though I _am_ incredibly hungry."

Freya's eyes narrowed a little. Merlin had clearly changed the subject but she had enough tact to play along. Inwardly sighing, she put on a smile and said, "Well, it's a good thing I made lunch then." She paused as a devious idea occurred to her. "Do you want to join us, Morgana?"

Merlin's eyes widened in fear and he sent Freya a pointed look. She smiled sweetly at him.

"I appreciate the offer, Freya, but I'm actually waiting for my boyfriend to show up," Morgana confessed.

Merlin stiffened in dread. _Boyfriend?_ _Morgana_ had a _boyfriend?_

Could it be Cenred? Or maybe even Mordred? Merlin shuddered at the thought of either one reappearing in the future. He already had to deal with the Death Eaters in the magical community. He didn't need old foes returning from the dead too! Morgana was bad enough as it was; if she turned to evil again that is.

"You have a boyfriend?" Freya asked skeptically, her tone making it clear the news was just as disconcerting to her as it was to Merlin.

Morgana's expression brightened as she nodded, "Yes and he's really great, Freya, you'd like him."

"Oh really? What's his name?"

Merlin held his breath and he could tell Freya was doing the same. Morgana opened her mouth to answer when the door opened again.

"There you are! When you said to meet you here a part of me actually thought you were joking."

Merlin's jaw hit the floor as the man strode across the room and kissed Morgana full on the mouth. The former witch pulled away, a glorious smile on her face.

"And what's so wrong with meeting at my best friend's flower shop?" she asked, teasing him.

"Nothing," the man answered, flipping his long black hair out of his eyes as he appraised the place. "It's just very different from where we met."

He finally seemed to notice Merlin and Freya, the former still staring with his mouth open. The man's eyes widened and, for a second, it appeared as if he recognized Merlin but then he put up a mask.

"Hi, I'm Gwaine," he introduced, holding out his hand.

Merlin pulled himself out of his stupor. "Merlin," he answered, deftly taking Gwaine's offered hand and shaking it.

"Pleasure to meet ya," Gwaine answered before making introductions with Freya.

Merlin watched his every move, hardly daring to believe it. Sir Gwaine, one of his best friends, was standing in Freya's flower shop holding hands with Morgana the witch. From Freya's obvious surprise she was wondering the same thing as he: when had _that_ happened?

"So, Merlin, how do you know my lovely girlfriend?" Gwaine asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Merlin is Freya's boyfriend," Morgana explained before Merlin could think of something plausible to say.

"And Freya is your flatmate, right?" Gwaine recollected.

"That's right," Freya smiled, hiding her shock better than the warlock. "Merlin and I met across the street at the café."

Seeing this as an opportunity to discover how on earth the bizarre pairing had come to be, Merlin found his voice and asked, "How did you two meet?"

Morgana blushed but Gwaine shamelessly answered, "We met at a club. Not only was I immediately captured by this woman's beauty but I also learned she has a rather witty tongue when stupid men try to seduce her."

Morgana playfully slapped his arm. "And I think I was handling myself just fine until you decided to step in. Punching people isn't how you solve problems, you know, even if that man was wrong to attempt what he did."

"I always find it's the best way to resolve conflict without drama."

Morgana rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Punching people _is_ drama, Gwaine." She sighed, "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," Gwaine smirked.

Morgana lightly kissed his cheek. "Don't let it go to your head."

Merlin stared. Gwaine and Morgana… who would have thought?! But there was a part of him that felt he had to admit his dear friend and former foe worked rather well together – even if their pairing was beyond bizarre

"Well," Gwaine cleared his throat, "shall we go? The movie's going to start soon and I'd rather not be late."

"You're late to everything," Merlin teased without thinking.

Gwaine stared at him, surprised. Merlin froze. _Had he really just said that?_

Morgana laughed. "Merlin hasn't even known you for five minutes and even he's managed to discern that much! Not that he knew, but you _were_ supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."

Gwaine shared her laughter but it was clearly forced. "Sorry about that, love. It's true though, I tend to be late."

Merlin sent him a weak smile. "I apologize. I didn't mean to be rude."

Gwaine brushed off his words with a pleasant shrug. "No harm, no foul, mate."

There was another moment of awkwardness before Gwaine cleared his throat and again prompted his and Morgana's need for departure. Morgana agreed bidding both Freya and Merlin goodbye before the two wandered out of the flower shop into the frozen cold.

Merlin turned to Freya. "When did that happen?" he demanded, voicing his shock.

Freya shrugged. "I'm honestly just as surprised about it as you are."

"You didn't see anything between the two of them in Avalon, did you?" Merlin pressed.

"Not that I can remember," she muttered, shaking her head.

Merlin stared at the door. "Well… this is an unforeseen predicament… Freya, what if they remember while they're together? The happiness they're both obviously displaying will be dashed! I don't want to ruin that."

"Merlin, calm down," Freya advised, walking around the counter to give him a hug. "Why are you so adamant that Morgana is going to turn to the darkness again?"

"You returned to how you used to be," he pointed out.

"That may be true but I'm not completely the same," she countered. "I'm no longer a bastet, forced to kill people every night."

"No, but you have all your memories and past feelings," Merlin replied stubbornly.

Freya let out a sigh of strain. "Merlin, don't try to create a problem when there isn't one."

"But if she does remember –"

"- then we'll deal with it. You need to stop thinking that your past is going to come back to haunt you."

Merlin leaned against the counter, folding his arms. With his eyes on the floor, his shoulders sagged slightly. "It's so hard," he confessed. "It just seems like every time something good happens in my life, something steps in to ruin it. Now that it appears that everyone I knew from the past is returning, I'm just waiting for something bad to happen. You can't blame me, Freya. I've been programmed for centuries to expect things to go wrong."

Freya gently caressed his face. Merlin lifted his tortured gaze to find her staring at him with nothing but love. Gently wrapping her arms around his torso, she softly muttered, "You no longer need to feel that way. I'm not going anywhere this time and neither is Arthur."

Merlin didn't realize that he'd begun to cry until his breath hitched. "How can you be so sure?" he gasped through a sob.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, wiping his tears away.

The two didn't say anymore. They didn't really need to. Drowning in insecurity, Merlin clung to Freya as he would a lifeline, holding on to the desperate hope that she would keep him from sinking into the beliefs his darkest thoughts were whispering to his weary heart.

[][][]

It was several hours later that Merlin left Lakeside Gardens, choosing to spend the entire afternoon and early evening with Freya instead of continuing his search for Arthur. He didn't think he could have handled walking around for hours only to be faced with further disappointment. He'd had enough grieving for one day. What he really needed now was a hot bath and a good amount of sleep. Freya had more or less ordered him to go back to his hotel, refusing to have him walk her home after she'd closed shop for the night; she'd turned into a cat the second after kissing him goodnight, slipping into the shadows away from his view.

Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets and silently berated himself. He was over fifteen hundred years old and yet he'd just spent the last six hours crying like a school boy over petty problems! But the things he'd discussed with Freya were legitimate fears he'd harbored in the darkest recesses of his mind and he couldn't ignore them, especially after seeing Morgana.

He was so terrified that the past was going to repeat, that Morgana would remember and seek out the Death Eaters to wreck havoc in the modern age, that Arthur would end up dying again…

Merlin wasn't fool enough to forget how cruel life had been to him. He'd eventually lost everyone he'd ever cared about: Freya after Arthur unknowingly stabbed her; Morgana when she turned to Morgause; Lancelot when repairing the veil; Elyan during the Battle of Hogwarts; Kilgharrah to old age; Arthur at the second Battle of Camlann to Morgana's blade; Gwaine to Morgana's magic during the same battle; his mother during a famine; Gaius to old age; Leon from a sword wound; Percival during a raid; Gwen from an unknown illness he couldn't cure; Archimedes when he became the Gatekeeper to the Spirit World…

Though the latter hadn't really died, he was still ripped way from Merlin's life – along with countless others. Merlin didn't know if he'd be able to handle all of them dying again while he continued to live, especially if they all met similar deaths to those of the past. It had been hard enough to go through the experience once; in Arthur's case _twice_ : when he'd been thrust into the future and learned of his death and the other when he'd actually seen his death for himself. He'd been fighting this fear since he'd returned to Hogwarts to visit Harry, Ron, and Hermione after waking in the twenty first century.

Groaning, Merlin rubbed his eyes, praying for some reassurance that Freya's words were true, that he wouldn't lose everyone like he had before. But how could he not? He was immortal. He had been promised that Arthur would return but there had been nothing to sooth Merlin's deepest fear: that he'd have to eventually say goodbye _again_ to his beloved king and friend while he continued to traipse through a pointless existence.

Merlin was brought from his private despair when he felt a threatening presence behind him. No sooner had he turned around, a pair of hands seized him by the shoulders and flung him into an alley. The momentum caused his body to slam into a trashcan before sliding to the ground, his shoulder smarting from what clearly would become a bruise. Groaning, Merlin glanced up to find himself surrounded by four rather menacing looking men. It was easy to deduce that they were thugs, desirous to inflict pain for pleasure before robbing their poor victim, leaving them bloodied and possibly dead after their fun.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He could defeat them without even lifting a finger.

"Looks like this one's got an attitude," the one on the left smirked as his friends chuckled stupidly.

Another pulled out a knife. "You know what we do to people who don't cooperate?"

Merlin scowled. "Put those useless things away and leave me be."

"Useless?" the one on the far right repeated with a smirk, "Do you know how many men I've killed with this pretty little thing? I ought to skin you alive – done it before – it's quite the thrill."

The man wasn't joking. Merlin suddenly felt sick. Who in their right mind would gain pleasure from such a barbaric custom? The spell on the tip of his tongue was about to leave his lips when someone chanced upon the scene.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

Merlin involuntarily smiled, recognizing the voice immediately. Trust Gwaine to try to save him from a situation he really didn't need to be saved from.

"Who the heck are you?" the nearest attacker demanded.

"Just a friend to the man you've got pinned against the wall," Gwaine answered. "I'd appreciate it if you took a step back and left us alone. I don't want to have to hurt you."

The four men laughed. Before the one nearest to him could even retort, Gwaine's fist slammed into his jaw, sending the poor sod tumbling onto the asphalt. After a brief second, the other three sprung into action to avenge their fallen friend. By the time Merlin scrambled to his feet, Gwaine had taken down another man. Leaping into the scuffle, Merlin threw all his weight into the larger of the two still standing.

Staggering, the ugly mugger twisted around, slashing his knife in front of him. Merlin dodged but the blade managed to swipe across his arm. Crying out, Merlin instinctively grabbed hold of the stinging flesh which was already soiling his shirt and jacket in blood. His attacker laughed, rushing forward to finish the job, but Merlin had had enough. With a flash of his eyes and a jerk of his head, the man went flying into the solid brick wall behind him. His head smacked against the stone and his body crumbled.

Merlin twisted around to help Gwaine, witnessing as the last of the four landed a lucky punch into the former knight's stomach. As Gwaine doubled over, his attacker lifted his knife. Merlin let out a roar, sprinting forward and bodily tackling the unsuspecting man to the ground. The two rolled back and forth, Merlin fighting to get the blade away from the man's grip. After Merlin received a couple of punches to the face and a split lip, the man was thrown off him as Gwaine came once again to the rescue. Merlin watched as Gwaine expertly twisted the man's wrist, loosened the grip on the dagger, and slammed the hilt into the side of its owner's head. The last mugger went out like a light.

"Are you two alright?!" someone shouted, running into the alley.

For the second time that day Merlin was left speechless. Striding towards them, his muscles as bulging as they had been in the past, was none other than the reincarnated Sir Percival. Though he wasn't covered in armor, his physique was just as intimidating in jogging pants and a muscle shirt; he'd probably been exercising when he'd come across the scuffle.

"I think so," Gwaine answered him.

Percival offered Merlin his hand. Merlin made sure to grab it with the arm that wasn't injured. The soft spoken giant observed the injury after helping him to his feet. "You should probably go to the hospital," he commented, pointing at the wound.

Merlin shook his head. He wasn't willing to deal with false medical records at the moment. "I think I'll pass. I should be able to patch it up fine on my own."

"Are you sure, mate?" Gwaine asked. "It looks pretty bad."

"You don't really look great yourself, you know," Merlin smiled, unable to stop himself from teasing.

Gwaine grinned, displaying bloodied teeth and a slightly black eye. "I've had worse," he admitted.

Percival appeared conflicted. "Look, if neither of you want to go to the hospital, you should at least get those wounds treated. My place is just around the corner. I've got a first aid kit."

"That's very kind of you," said Merlin with a small grimace due to the pain spiking through his arm. "I think I'll take you up on that."

"So will I," Gwaine muttered. "My girlfriend would kill me if I didn't."

Merlin had to bite his tongue; now wasn't the time to go spewing forth that Morgana _had_ killed him in the past.

"Before we go, we should call this in," Percival suggested.

"Good idea," Gwaine commented. "I don't think these guys should be allowed to wander the streets anymore."

Merlin had to agree with him. Percival made the call and the authorities showed up in record time. After giving their statements, the four muggers were hauled into the back of the officers' car and were on their way to the station. Meanwhile, Percival led them to his apartment which literally was right around the corner.

"I'm Percival by the way," he introduced. "Percival Hopper, but you can call me Percy if you want."

"I'm Gwaine and this is Merlin," Gwaine introduced. "Thanks for coming to check on us though you really didn't need to get involved."

Percival shrugged. "It was the right thing to do."

Merlin smiled. Same old Percival. "Thank you."

The three of them entered Percival's apartment after hiking a couple flights of stairs. The flat was moderately sized and oddly clean for a men's apartment though there were a couple boxes of pizza sitting on the round table in the kitchen. Merlin had to smile at the sight of the table.

One of Percival's flatmates emerged from the living room and it took every ounce of Merlin's self control not to gasp. Standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders hidden under a comfortable black tee, was Lancelot. His hair was a little shorter than how Merlin remembered it but he still had a five o'clock shadow across his strong chin. His eyes held the same compassion from the past and his smile was just as warm.

"Hey Percy," he greeted, noticing Merlin and Gwaine. "I didn't know we were expecting company. I would have ordered another pizza." Then he seemed to notice their injuries and his brow furrowed in concern. "What happened?"

"I found them in an alley," Percival explained as he rummaged around in the kitchen for the first aid.

"It wasn't anything serious," Merlin tried to downplay.

"Four on one is pretty serious if you ask me, mate," Gwaine countered.

Merlin scowled at him. He didn't like making others worry. Besides, he was fifteen hundred years old. He could handle himself just fine.

"I stepped in to help," Gwaine elaborated, "and your friend here noticed the fight and came to lend a hand."

"Not that you two needed it," Percival smiled as he set the extensive first aid kit on the table.

Merlin immediately set to work pulling out all the necessary supplies. Gwaine was rather surprised when instead of tending to himself, Merlin began cleaning _his_ wounds.

"Merlin, what are you doing? You're worse off than me!" he protested.

"I'll be fine," Merlin muttered, ignoring the shared glance between Lancelot and Percival. "I know what I'm doing, Gwaine, so relax and let me work."

"Are you studying to become a doctor?" Lancelot asked as he and Percival watched Merlin expertly work with his hands.

Merlin nearly snorted. Studying indeed! He had a M.D. for every medical field the world had to offer; that tends to happen when you live forever and you've got a lot of free time. Still, he wasn't about to announce that to the reincarnated knights!

"Something like that," he answered instead, pretending to be distracted by his progress. After another couple of minutes, he stepped back and nodded. Though Gwaine didn't know it, Merlin had silently added in healing spells. The black eye and the cuts would be healed before the end of the week.

"Thanks, mate!" Gwaine said appreciatively. "I can't even feel the sting from the cuts anymore. You have a gift."

Merlin smirked. "Thanks. Say, you wouldn't mind if I use your sink to clean off my hands would you?"

"Go right ahead," Lancelot invited.

After washing his hands, Merlin removed his coat and rolled up his blue sleeve, revealing the deep gash in his arm to the others. Gwaine swore, Lancelot insisted he go to the hospital, and Percival looked as if he wanted to suggest the same. Merlin ignored them. Pulling out a needle and some thread -from the rather impressive kit, Merlin noted- he set to work patching himself up.

It was during this messy process that the door opened and Percival's other two flatmates entered. Merlin shouldn't have been surprised but he couldn't help himself. How could he not when _Elyan_ and _Leon_ had just come through the door?

"What's going on?" Elyan wondered, his eyes wide at the sight of Merlin performing his own treatment with a practiced hand.

Leon seemed to recognize Gwaine for his eyebrows were furrowed in concern but when he looked at Merlin, there was a sense of shock and unease. Merlin took note of it but didn't comment. Oddly, he remembered Gwaine's reaction earlier in Freya's shop and had to admit the two were similar; both had acted as if they recognized him but were wary of his presence.

 _I wonder why_ , he silently mused.

Percival explained the situation to both Elyan and Leon as the five men watched Merlin work.

"You seem to know what you're doing," Leon commented.

Merlin smiled. "I've had a lot of practice." _Over a thousand years worth._

"I still think you should go to a hospital," Lancelot said. "If anything you should let them check you over."

"I'll be fine," Merlin muttered, finishing the job. "Contrary to what may be believed, I really do know what I'm doing." Wiping the excess blood from his arm and placing a few band aids in needed places, Merlin cleaned up the mess and washed his hands in the sink. The others watched as he went the extra mile to even scrub their sink clean, sterilizing it.

"We could have taken care of that," said Percival after Merlin finished up.

The warlock only smiled as he turned around. How odd but gratifying it was to see all of them together again. They truly were a sight for sore eyes! Merlin was sure his had misted over but he held his tears in; he didn't want to have to explain why he was crying.

"I made the mess," he shrugged, pleased to find his voice wasn't rough. "It's only right for me to clean it up."

"Well, how about the two of you stay for dinner?" Leon suggested, gesturing to the pizza boxes.

Gwaine took up the offer immediately, reaching into the box and pulling out a particularly large piece. "Don't mind if we do," he grinned.

The others couldn't help laughing. In a more refined manner, Merlin sat down at the table and helped himself to a slice. Pretty soon all of them were sitting at the round table, getting to know each other. Merlin found himself grinning practically the whole time. Fate had brought the knights back together. Now only Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius were missing; though Merlin wasn't sure if his old mentor would have been reincarnated like the others, he silently hoped that might be the case.

It turned out that Lancelot and Percival worked at the same restaurant, both of them waiters and slowly earning money while going to school for careers in law enforcement. Elyan was a mechanic and Leon was a security guard for an oil company owner in America but he'd taken some time off to live in London for a while. Gwaine was technically a corporation owner but spent the majority of his time occupying bars, leaving the company to other associates. None of these occupations came as a surprise to Merlin.

"So, Merlin, what do you do?" Elyan asked.

Merlin noticed Gwaine and Leon stiffen but decided to brush it off - for now. "Currently nothing," he replied, deciding to be partially honest.

"You're not going to school or anything?" Gwaine pressed.

Merlin shook his head. "I've already graduated."

"Really? How old are you?" asked Lancelot.

Merlin smirked. Even if he did tell the truth they wouldn't believe him. So what was the harm in being honest again? "A little over fifteen hundred, I think," he deadpanned. "I lost count after I reached a thousand."

Percival, Elyan, and Lancelot immediately began laughing but Merlin noticed that Gwaine and Leon joined them half a second late. Merlin frowned. They were hiding something.

"Seriously, Merlin," Elyan chuckled. "I'd wager you're about twenty seven."

Merlin decided to humor him. Smiling, he shook his head, "You found me out."

"So you're twenty seven and you've already graduated," Leon mused, trying to keep his tone innocent but Merlin could detect a hint of suspicion behind the words. "Are you working somewhere?"

"Not really," Merlin hedged. "I decided to take some time for myself, travel around a bit, you know."

The clock on the wall decided to chime then and Merlin couldn't have been more grateful. He hadn't been prepared for all the questions. It had been so long since he'd had the 'getting to know you' conversation with someone that he'd forgotten the importance of having some kind of cover story!

"It's getting late," Lancelot observed. "We should probably all turn in for the night."

The others agreed but not before demanding to find some time to get together again soon. Gwaine was adamant that the next time they should all head to the bar, stating that it was the perfect place to relax and enjoy oneself. The others decided to humor him and after exchanging phone numbers in order to stay in touch, Gwaine and Merlin left.

"They seem like pretty nice blokes," Gwaine commented as the two trudged down the stairs.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

When they were both outside of the complex and about to part ways, Gwaine gently caught Merlin's arm. "Listen, Merlin, I know you may not want to but perhaps you really should go see a doctor about that cut. Just in case?"

Merlin smiled. "Thanks for the concern, Gwaine, but I'll be fine. And thank you for stepping in to help. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," he smiled. "Well, take care then."

"You too," Merlin answered, waving before crossing the street to head back to his hotel.

If he had been paying closer attention, he would have noticed Gwaine was tailing him but the warlock was so tired that he didn't even bother to check his surroundings. By the time he got back to his hotel, he was dead on his feet. Falling into bed, Merlin was asleep right as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

 **Hey all! Hope you liked the chapter. I decided to name the title after our favorite knights hence** **Strength(Gwaine), Protection (Percival), Chivalry(Lancelot), Loyalty (Leon), and Honesty(Elyan). I thought it would be fun to give the other four special names like Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine had in the show. We're drawing closer to the big reunion! What did you guys think of Morgana and Gwaine? That kind of just happened... I confess there's a part of me that thought if things had been different in the show that they would have made quite the pair. So I'm taking fanfiction liberties - sorry to any who don't agree with that. Well, okay, I'm not sorry or else I wouldn't have done it. Anyway, leave a review please! The next chapter will be up soonish! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! So, a couple of you are asking what Elyan's last name would be if I'm sticking to the actors last names since that would make his and Gwen's different. Well, I confess I didn't really think that through so... yeah... I'll leave that up to your imagination. It's not that important where my plot is going but for those who care, you can imagine Gwen going by her mother's maiden name to remember her by? Or Elyan doing something similar to Arthur by using his middle name as his last? Whatever works for you. It's not that important to the plot, just so ya'll know.**

 **Sorry it took me a little longer than usual to get this to you. I'll try to do better in future.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

07: The Witch, the Queen, and the Lady

 _Her feet slowly trod over the solid red carpet strip running down the middle of the grand throne room. Sunlight filtered through the long windows, bathing the interior in a warm cheerful glow. Multiple sets of brass candelabras stood at the head of the room, surrounding two magnificent thrones made of masterfully carved wood._

 _Her lavender dress was made of the finest silk, white lace covering the sleeves with embroidery woven throughout the material in thread of gold. Her long curly hair extended freely down her back but away from her face, allowing her glowing smile to be seen by all in the vicinity. Her eyes were trained on the man standing at the foot of the thrones. Clad in chainmail, a brilliant red cape flowing from his shoulders, and a crown of gold resting on his brow, was Arthur Pendragon, the love of her heart._

 _Upon reaching the steps, she kept her inner happiness contained while kneeling at her king's feet. He smiled down at her, his eyes displaying the internal joy of his soul. Twisting to the right, Arthur removed an ornate crown from the cushion presented by a servant before turning back to her. Holding the crown at arm's length, Arthur addressed the gathered witnesses._

" _By the sacred laws vested in me," he stated with all authority and regality, "I crown you, Guinevere, Queen of Camelot."_

 _Arthur rested the crown upon her ebony locks with the utmost care and Guinevere's warm smile grew as her eyes sought his. Arthur stared down at her with all the love and passion a man was capable of possessing. He held out both hands and Guinevere reached upwards to meet them. Gracefully lifted back onto her feet, she joined her beloved at the top of the steps, finally standing beside him on equal ground._

 _With hands still clasped, they shared a devoted kiss and she found herself longing to throw her arms around her love and dive into the desires coursing beneath her skin. But she had to compose herself before the people as did he. They pulled away at almost the same time, staring fervently into each other's eyes. Arthur, turning to face the court while still grasping one of her hands, held it aloft._

" _Long live the Queen!" he cried, his voice resonating through the hall._

" _Long live the Queen!" the crowd repeated, their voices full of joy and enthusiasm, their countenances reflecting their elation._

 _Guinevere managed to pick out her dearest loved ones and friends. Each of them displayed their joy over her and Arthur's happiness. To her left stood Merlin, her best friend, wearing a rather handsome red jacket with his traditional blue neckerchief poking out. His voice somehow echoed louder than the others and his blue eyes radiated with true delight._

" _Long live the Queen!"_

Guinevere gasped, jolting awake from her slumber. Her heart thudded madly against her ribcage, her body still filled with longing and love towards the king in her dreams. The echo of the gathered crowd seemed to ring throughout her room as her eyes darted back and forth.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Guinevere rested her head against her knees, her thoughts racing.

The conversation with Arthur from the day before leapt through her mind like a gazelle and Guinevere couldn't help the slight fear that ran through her body. Jumping from her bed and ignoring the sudden chill, she dashed into her bathroom and immersed herself in a hot shower. She tried focusing on the mundane routine but still found her heart longing for the man who'd just recently stepped into her life. By the time she left the shower and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a deep red shirt lined with gold, Guinevere had half a mind to call Arthur and demand he come over.

Reaching for her phone, she paused, biting her lip. Maybe she was overreacting to all of this. After all, she had been thinking about Arthurian legends and searching with Arthur for a man named Merlin all of yesterday; dreams tended to be results of things on one's mind, right? Perhaps there was no need to call Arthur. She was just being silly. Shaking off the little voice that was contradicting her, Guinevere instead pocketed her phone and left her room to get some breakfast. To her surprise, both her flatmates were awake, sitting at the table enjoying a round of pancakes.

"Gwen! I thought you might be at work by now," said Freya, glancing at the kitchen clock.

"I normally am but I have the next few days off due to the holiday," she answered, sitting down at the table.

Morgana, her other flatmate, immediately shoved a plateful of pancakes towards her. "Well, since we're all here you might as well help us eat these. Freya made enough to feed an army."

"I overestimated the recipe," she admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Guinevere didn't really feel like eating but she also didn't want to be rude. Silently pouring a light amount of syrup over her pancakes, she tried to distract herself by listening to the other two's conversation.

"I still can't believe you're actually dating someone, Morgana," said Freya after taking a large sip from her coffee mug.

"What?" Guinevere gasped in surprise, nearly dropping her fork to eye the dark-haired beauty to her left.

Morgana's cheeks were a light pink as she smiled. "I know, shocking isn't it? Normally I keep to myself but Gwaine is a whole different caliber of men compared to the pigs who have chased after me in the past."

 _Gwaine? Why did that name sound so familiar?_ Guinevere silently mused.

"Gwen, are you alright? You've hardly eaten a thing," Freya voiced.

Guinevere's head snapped up to find both her flatmates staring at her with concern. "I'm fine," she smiled, stuffing a huge helping of pancake into her mouth. Swallowing quickly, she tried to steer the attention away from herself. "So, you have a boyfriend Morgana?"

Morgana's smile was warm as she nodded cheerfully. "His name is Gwaine Macken. We actually met at a club. He asked me out right after 'rescuing me' from some idiot who was trying to do more than he should. I admit, the way Gwaine fought the man was impressive and his smile… well, I found that I couldn't say no."

"So you said yes because you were captured by his charm?" Freya teased.

Morgana's eyes narrowed playfully. "You can't tell me you didn't fall for charm either, Freya. Why don't you tell Gwen all about Merlin?"

Guinevere's mouth dropped open. "Merlin?" she gasped aloud, staring at her flatmate, wide-eyed.

Freya's brow furrowed. "Do you know him, Gwen?"

Guinevere quickly hid her shock. Shaking her head, she tried to laugh it off. "No, I'm just surprised someone would name their child after a fictitious wizard."

"Warlock," Freya corrected.

"What?"

Freya paled. "I mean, I think I heard somewhere that Merlin was a warlock not a wizard."

"What's the difference?" Morgana laughed. "Warlock, sorcerer, wizard – they're all the same, right?"

Freya shook her head. "No, they're very different. Warlocks are _born_ with magic while sorcerers and wizards have the talent for it but need to practice in order to use it."

"Since when did you become the expert on magical terms?" asked Morgana with a curious brow.

Freya shrugged. "Merlin really likes mythical fantasy. He's told me a lot in the time I've known him."

"I hope he's not one of those types that have little figurines of knights, castles, and dragons," Morgana teased.

Freya smiled. "No, I don't think he is."

Guinevere tried to keep her wits about her. Freya was dating a boy named Merlin. Arthur told her yesterday that the man who stopped the chaos at Somerset House was addressed as Merlin. Not to mention in her dream, there was a man she'd recognized as Merlin who she somehow knew had been her best friend.

 _What was going on here?_

"Speaking of boys, are you seeing anyone Gwen?" Morgana asked.

Guinevere started. "What?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" Morgana repeated. "I know you haven't really been dating since you and Lancelot broke up."

"Oh, well," Guinevere once more thought of Arthur and her heart began to flutter. Suddenly an image sprung up in her mind of him standing before her in chainmail with a sword at his waist and her cheeks flushed.

"I knew it!" Morgana cried, interrupting her fantasies. "Go on then, who is it?"

"You've been seeing someone?" Freya wondered, curious.

"Sort of," Guinevere hedged.

Morgana and Freya shared a smile before inching closer. Their scrutiny and silent demand grew to be too much and Guinevere found herself caving under their silent pressure.

"Oh, alright! I'll tell you!"

She confessed her first run in with Arthur, their date at Somerset House, and twisted the truth by saying they spent all of yesterday merely wandering around London getting to know each other. They did stop the search for Merlin to eat at a fancy restaurant for lunch (in which Arthur had been a perfect gentleman) so she could be totally honest about that bit.

"So you're telling me that without even knowing you the man invited you to spend Christmas with him?" Morgana repeated with a skeptical smirk. "That's a little prideful, don't you think?"

"It may seem that way," Guinevere replied, "but Arthur's intentions are not the same as other men, Morgana. Honestly, he has a good heart."

"What do you think about it, Freya?" Morgana asked, looking towards their other flatmate who had gone remarkably quiet. "Freya?"

The young florist blinked, shaking her head, her unfocused eyes returning to the present conversation. "Sorry," she muttered, "I was just thinking…"

"About how audacious it is for Gwen to even be dating someone whom I personally think only wants to get her in bed?"

"Morgana!" Guinevere cried, scandalized.

Morgana smirked. "Seriously, Gwen, the man wants you to spend a major holiday with him. Don't you find that a bit strange?"

"And Gwaine hasn't invited you to spend it with him?" Guinevere challenged. "How long have you two been dating, Morgana? Two weeks?"

"Yes," Morgana confessed, "but at least the first thing Gwaine asked of me was to go out to dinner. I bet Merlin did the same for Freya."

Freya looked at Guinevere, apologetic. "He did, actually. But I don't think there's anything wrong with Arthur asking Gwen to spend Christmas with him."

"You can't be serious," Morgana voiced. "He honestly sounds like a creeper!"

"Arthur has no intention of seducing me, Morgana!" Guinevere defended, clearly upset. "Just because his invitation is unorthodox does not give you the right to judge someone you don't know! Arthur is kind, compassionate, and traditional. Did it even cross your mind that there are still gentlemen in the world who have a woman's best interest at heart? Arthur overheard me telling Lancelot that I would be spending Christmas alone. His only intention was to invite me to his flat since he was in the same predicament. Why do you have to assume that every man's focus when meeting a woman is solely on sex? How dare you assume that of Arthur when you haven't even met him!"

Morgana looked as if Guinevere had slapped her. Guinevere was breathing heavily, a torrent of emotions raging in her heart. She desperately felt the need to defend Arthur but she also felt terrible for yelling at her best friend. Guilt consumed her. Guinevere did not like conflict but she also wasn't one to keep her opinions to herself, especially when she felt justified in giving them. Though deep down she knew that Morgana only cared for her well being and was merely worried about her, Guinevere also knew Arthur would never hurt her. Not in the way Morgana was hinting at.

There was a long, awkward silence as the three women sat staring at the table. Freya was glancing periodically between the two, clearly torn as to whether she should say something or not. Morgana's eyes were stormy, her posture straight and her hands balled into fists. Guinevere sat with her hands in her lap, playing with her fingers.

After a moment Guinevere sighed. "Morgana, I'm sorry."

"No… you're right," Morgana muttered with a heavy sigh. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I'm being slightly hypocritical after all. I met Gwaine at a club, where most who attend such places aim for ending up in a bedroom without commitment."

"I don't think Gwaine would do that," said Guinevere with conviction. "He seems like a man of honor for protecting you."

"And Arthur doesn't sound like a selfish pig either," Morgana muttered, her eyes still downcast.

"If it helps, Merlin is pretty wonderful too," Freya opined, trying to ease the tension.

It worked; both Morgana and Guinevere cracked a smile before the three of them started laughing.

"I think you're biased, Freya," Morgana teased.

"I am not," Freya defended, visibly relieved that the air seemed to have cleared. "Merlin is the most genuine gentleman you will ever meet in the history of mankind."

Guinevere found herself smiling. "And why do you say that?"

Freya blushed, her brown eyes falling to her lap. "Well," she fidgeted, "he just is."

"Why don't you tell us how you met then?" Morgana prompted. "Gwen and I have shared our stories. If your man is as wonderful as you claim him to be, we'd like to know what he's done to gain such a title."

"Yes, do tell us," Guinevere invited, truly intrigued not only because Freya had finally found someone but also because the man in question just might be the same person she and Arthur had been looking for.

Freya's eyes softened. "Merlin judges someone based off the intent of their heart. The first time we met, he saw nothing but who I really am under the surface. He told me flat out that I was special. He went out of his way to bring me gifts, the greatest being his love. He didn't laugh when I shared with him my dream of living by a lake surrounded by mountains and strawberry patches. He actually confessed those were some of his favorite things."

"Just how long have you two been seeing each other?" Morgana wondered.

"It sounds as if you've known each other for years," Guinevere commented, silently unnerved by the thought and by the deep love shining in her friend's countenance.

"Merlin and I have been seeing each other for a while," she answered, her eyes lowering as her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want to cause a fuss."

"Freya, we would never be upset about you finding someone who treats you well," Morgana kindly admonished.

Guinevere nodded with the same conviction. "You're a sweet girl, Freya. You deserve happiness and Merlin sounds like someone who can give it to you. He definitely seems to have done so."

"He has," she whispered. Her warm smile drew one of similar feeling to Guinevere. Why was she so thrilled over the idea of Freya being together with this man?

 _Because Merlin is the greatest man besides Arthur that I have ever met and he deserves to be with someone who brings him happiness_.

Guinevere froze. Where had _that_ thought come from? Shaking her head, she tried to shrug off the sudden desire to call Arthur again.

Morgana reached across the table and patted Freya's hand. "I'm happy for you, Freya," she said sincerely. "Gwen is right, you deserve someone wonderful."

"So do you two," Freya smiled, her eyes bright. "I think you've both found extraordinary men. Say, why don't we all get together for the holiday? None of us were planning on going anywhere and it sounds as if our boyfriends weren't either."

"That sounds like an excellent idea!" Morgana agreed supportively. "Gwen?"

Hiding her silent worries and concerns behind a smile, Guinevere answered, "I'll ask Arthur about it. He might even offer his flat. From what I hear, it's large enough for a party."

"And you can invite Elyan too," Freya added.

Guinevere stiffened. Since their father had died, Elyan had somewhat estranged himself from her. It had been months since she last saw him though she knew he was living with Lancelot. "I don't know if he'll come," she confessed.

"It's Christmas," Freya comforted. "I'm sure he will."

"We can invite his flatmates too," Morgana mused. "I don't think any of them were planning on doing anything and it might help him feel more relaxed."

Guinevere mused over this, suddenly feeling hopeful. "I'll ask them about it," she decided, "but first I think we should see if our significant others want to get together before extending the invitation to the boys."

"I'm seeing Gwaine after I stop by work," Morgana muttered as she stood up. "I forgot a couple things there yesterday. I'll be sure to ask him then."

"And I'm meeting up with Merlin right after this," Freya revealed.

"Same with me and Arthur," said Guinevere.

"So we'll each ask what they think on the matter and reconvene tonight," Morgana decided.

"Are you sure it isn't too late of a notice?" asked Guinevere. "Christmas is tomorrow."

"It doesn't hurt to ask," said Freya.

"We'll ask them all and see what they say," Morgana muttered. "Text me what you two find out when you can and I'll let you know what Gwaine says."

Freya and Guinevere both agreed to do so though each appeared lost in their own thoughts. Morgana picked up her purse and headed for the door. "I'll see you ladies later," she called over her shoulder.

"Have fun," Freya responded.

Morgana waved before heading out. There was a brief silence between Freya and Guinevere before the latter started making excuses to leave. The second that she had her boots and coat on, Guinevere booked it out the door, whipping her phone from her pocket as she went.

Arthur answered after the second ring.

"Guinevere! I was just about to call."

"Arthur, where are you?"

"I just got back from a run. Are you alright? You sound scared."

Guinevere looked around, terrified that someone might overhear. Cupping her hand over her mouth she muttered into the receiver, "I don't know what to think, Arthur. Something's happened."

Immediately concerned, Arthur's protectiveness could be heard in his voice. "Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"I'm alright," she assured, "well, not really but I'm not hurt. I just want to see you."

"I'm coming to pick you up."

"Wait, Arthur, I already left my flat."

"Then where are you now?"

"Just at the corner from my complex."

"Stay there," he commanded. "I'll be there soon."

Guinevere couldn't help the love and affection that sprouted from her as Arthur hung up. From the sound of it, he was already in his car by the time she finished the conversation. The sudden thought of King Arthur driving a Corvette brought a slight giggle to her lips. It was so absurd since the only thing she pictured was the man sitting behind the wheel in chainmail, his sword taking up the passenger seat.

What was wrong with her?

True to his word, Arthur arrived sooner than she thought he would, his red Corvette skidding to a stop at the curb directly in front of her. The blonde hopped out of the driver side, ignoring the angry looks of disapproval from the other shoppers on the street. Though he wasn't wearing chainmail, he sported a red shirt under a light gray jacket and similar colored sweatpants. In seconds his strong arms were wrapped around her and immediately Guinevere felt safe. He smelt of sweat and his clothes were slightly damp but that didn't bother her in the slightest. In fact, it oddly added to the sense of security.

"Guinevere," he muttered, holding her close, "what's wrong? You're trembling."

"Oh, Arthur," she muttered, tears suddenly forming in her dark eyes.

He led her to his car, opening the door for her before getting in himself. The heat was drastically different from the chill outside, Arthur's unique scent permeating the air, soothing her further. It was so familiar – _he was so familiar_ – and she couldn't help but feel she'd known him for years instead of merely days. The dream was more real to her now than it had been all morning.

Arthur hadn't moved the car; instead he was scrutinizing her with a concerned eye. "Are you alright?"

Guinevere shook her head. "Not really."

Arthur frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She nodded but remained silent. How could she bring herself to say what was truly on her mind? She suddenly had a new found appreciation for Arthur's courage in confessing to her yesterday. A comforting hand slipped into hers and she looked up to see Arthur's blue eyes filled with love and concern. It was this that caused her tongue to loosen and she found herself confessing everything to him. She told him of her dream as well as the conversation between her and her flatmates. Arthur listened with rapt attention, his eyes widening with each passing second.

"What is going on here, Arthur?" she asked fearfully.

"I don't know," he confessed, his eyes clouded.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

Arthur's hold on her hand tightened as he leaned over to kiss the side of her head. "So am I," he admitted, his voice thick with the emotion.

Guinevere shook her head. "I don't know why I feel so confused and scared. So many things are running through my mind. I have feelings for you that are so deep that they seem to be ones I've had for a _lifetime_ – but I only met you two days ago! And then I had this dream and Merlin was there."

"The way you described him is exactly how he was in my dream too," Arthur confessed. "Even down to the bloody blue neckerchief!"

Guinevere found herself giggling, "Something tells me he fancies those."

"And I get the feeling I'd make fun of him for it," Arthur muttered, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"For some reason I don't feel that would surprise me," she mused. After a pause, she sighed. "We really need to find him."

"Well, your flatmate said she was meeting him today, didn't she? Why don't we follow her?"

Guinevere bit her lip, thinking. "We can try. I don't think she's left yet."

Nodding, Arthur suddenly peeled away from the pavement, spinning the car around.

"Arthur!" she protested.

"Sorry," he apologized, smiling sheepishly as he pulled into a more convenient spot right across from her complex.

Guinevere slapped his arm, shaking her head. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," he repeated, his eyes trained across the road. "Tell me when you see her."

"Alright."

The silence started to stretch out between them and Guinevere found herself playing with her fingers again. It began to snow. Despite the large amounts of frozen rain falling from the sky, people trundled down the sidewalks, their dark umbrellas shielding them from the onslaught. Arthur cursed as it became harder and harder to see across the street. Just when Guinevere was going to suggest that they try calling Freya to see where she might be, Arthur grabbed her hand.

"Guinevere!" he practically shouted.

The young woman's eyes focused on where he was pointing and a gasp escaped her. Walking down the path under a dark umbrella, his black hair slightly covering his overlarge ears, was a man wearing a crimson coat, brown jeans, dark boots, and a bright blue neckerchief.

" _Merlin!"_ both of them shouted at the same time.

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 **Cliffhanger! Muhaha! If I get enough reviews (over five), I might give you the next chapter in a couple of days... Bribery? Yes, yes, it is. I am not shamed.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Right, I'm a woman of my word. Due to the lovely reviews posted (thank you for those of you who did; you know who you are) I'm giving this to you now! Aren't I nice? :3**

 **The moment you've been waiting for folks! I hope I don't disappoint anyone.**

 **Disclaimer: The same as always.**

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08: Reunion

Arthur watched as the man he'd been searching for stumbled a little in the snow and an unconscious smile lifted his cheeks at the clumsiness. Merlin, catching himself by holding onto the wall, suddenly glanced upward with a smile. A black cat rested on top of the stone, its large yellowish eyes gazing down at him. Arthur studied the scene intently as Merlin scooped the cat from its perch, holding it to his chest with a tender smile on his face. He even bent down and kissed the cat's head.

Arthur frowned. Just what was the idiot doing, kissing a stray animal? Without even thinking, Arthur made to get out of the car, his fingers fumbling for the door handle. The instant chill was ignored as the young blonde forced his way into the snow. The moment he slammed the door, Merlin looked up and blue eyes met blue. Arthur's heart constricted and, overwhelmed, tears came to his eyes.

The black cat removed itself from Merlin's embrace at the same time the man dropped the umbrella. He seemed to mouth something but it was too soft for Arthur to catch. And then, with tears falling freely down his prominent cheekbones, Merlin launched himself forward.

" _ARTHUR!"_ he shouted.

And then Arthur was running. He didn't even think to look as he dashed across the street but it didn't matter since there wasn't another soul on the road. All he thought about was rushing forward towards Merlin. Meeting in the middle, Merlin's arms wrapped around his shoulders and Arthur's whole soul soared as something inside him seemed to explode. Warmth flowed through his veins and for the first time in this existence, he felt whole again. Laughing joyfully, he pulled away, his hands clasped firmly on Merlin's shoulders. The warlock was crying freely, his eyes red, his nose pink.

Arthur smirked, slightly shaking his head. "Ever still a girl, aren't you, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin chuckled, his tears redoubling. He sniffled and bowed his head. "I'm afraid so, Sire."

Arthur laughed, pulling him into another embrace. Merlin's sobs shook his entire body, holding onto Arthur like he never had before.

"You're really here," he whispered.

"And so are you, you idiot," Arthur replied affectionately.

"I was beginning to think I'd never find you!" Merlin confessed.

Arthur started steering him back towards his car. "How did you know I was in London?"

"The Old Religion," Merlin answered. "It told me I would find you somewhere in the city."

Arthur's head suddenly spiked with a splitting headache and he winced, stumbling slightly. Merlin steadied him.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur didn't answer at first. He had been so caught up in his joy of finally being with his other half that his mind hadn't really caught up with the fact that all of his memories from his previous life had returned. Now that the euphoria had passed, his two lives were slamming against each other, memories of the past demanding attention, shoving his memories of the future aside like a tidal wave. Arthur shook his head, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"Arthur!"

"Gwen?!" Merlin cried in disbelief.

Arthur felt Guinevere's comforting hands latching onto his arm. "Is he alright?"

"I'm fine," Arthur muttered, holding his head and wincing. "Headache."

"I can ease the pain," Merlin offered.

Arthur shook his head. "Just – just give me a minute," he gasped.

At this point they'd reached his car and Arthur gratefully leaned against it, lifting his head towards the sky. The soft flakes of snow gently graced his face, feeling good against his slightly fevered skin. He took deep, calming breaths, embracing the old memories that were parading behind his eyelids. It was truly remarkable reliving every moment in such quick succession, from his royal birth all the way to the moment when Morgana's blade sliced into his skin and he fell amidst the dead during the second battle of Camlann.

He thought that would be the end of it but then he remembered every day he'd lived in Avalon, bidding his time while witnessing helplessly as Merlin struggled all those years on his own. It was truly odd watching his friend endure his grief after his death as well as when he fell asleep while his younger self was thrust into the future to live a long life of confusion, fear, and heartbreak. The trip down memory lane ended when he had been reborn twenty five years ago and his new life as the son of Uther Head began. His old and new life clicking into place, Arthur finally felt his stomach settle and he reopened his eyes only to find Merlin supporting a rather unsteady Guinevere.

She too was leaning against the car, her breathing coming out in short gasps, her eyes screwed tightly shut. Arthur then realized that she was gripping his hand so tightly that he could no longer feel his fingers. He didn't express his discomfort, however, since he suspected he'd been gripping her just as tightly not even a moment ago.

"Just breathe," Merlin soothed, holding her other hand. His concerned eyes flickered over to Arthur and widened.

Arthur smiled weakly at him. "I'm alright," he assured, answering Merlin's silent question. "It's not every day you suddenly remember an entire lifetime you endured in the past."

Merlin grinned though he nodded sympathetically. After another minute, Guinevere's eyes opened.

"I remember!" she cried, twisting around to face them both. "I remember _everything!_ Oh, Arthur!"

She flung her arms around his neck and Arthur buried his face into her hair, taking in her fresh lavender scent. Soon their lips found each other and he felt as if he was rocketing into the clouds so great was his ecstasy. Guinevere pulled away from him only to fall into Merlin's arms.

"Merlin!" she gasped.

The warlock laughed, holding her in a tight embrace while Arthur watched with a fond smile. "It's good to see you again, Gwen," he muttered.

"Oh, you!" she laughed, pulling away to study him. "You haven't aged a day!"

Merlin grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, that kind of happens when you're immortal."

Guinevere shook her head. "We watched you, Merlin, in Avalon."

His eyes grew a little sad, a weak smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I know," he replied. "Freya told me."

"Freya!" Guinevere gasped, looking around.

Arthur frowned too. "Isn't she one of your flatmates, Guinevere?"

She nodded. "Along with…"

"Morgana!" Arthur gasped, suddenly remembering Guinevere's earlier explanation concerning the conversation she'd had with her flatmates not even an hour ago.

"There is no need to fear her, Once and Future King and Queen."

The three of them spun around the find Freya standing on the other side of the car. She sent Merlin a tender smile and Arthur couldn't help the guilt he felt as he recalled he was the one who had killed her in the past, wrenching Merlin away from her for so many years. Merlin walked around the car and enveloped Freya in a warm embrace. Arthur couldn't help but grin. Guinevere squeezed his hand and he glanced at her; she was also smiling.

"They remember, Freya!" Merlin cried excitedly.

"Just like I did," she answered, "which happened after I met you."

Arthur stepped forward. "I don't mean to break up the tender moment but we clearly have a lot to talk about and I'd rather not do it standing in the snow."

"What's the matter, Sire, getting cold feet?" Merlin grinned. Arthur, smiling despite himself, rolled his eyes.

"Let's go back to our place," Guinevere suggested, Freya nodding her agreement.

After checking that no cars were coming from either direction, the four of them rushed across the street towards the complex. A moment later, they were safely inside Guinevere and Freya's flat, having removed their wet things by the door. Freya immediately set to work making hot chocolate, Merlin volunteering to help speed things along with a flash of gold from his eyes. After mugs were passed around, Arthur and Guinevere shared the couch while Merlin and Freya took the loveseat. Arthur smiled slightly as he watched Merlin wrap his arm around Freya's shoulders and kiss the side of her head. Never before had he pictured his Court Sorcerer with a woman but seeing the two together seemed as natural as he and Guinevere's relationship.

After a moment's silence, Guinevere sighed. "Life just got really complicated…"

There was a pause and then everyone started laughing. They couldn't help it. Their lives had never exactly been normal before. What would change that now?

"Welcome to my life," Merlin smiled over his mug.

"No, I think your life is still a lot more complicated than ours, Merlin," Arthur countered. "Only you would have two of you living at the same time. I'm still having difficulties understanding that."

Merlin shrugged. "It's not too difficult to me. But then again, I do have the bigger brain. And if I recall correctly, your younger self was running around briefly while you were here."

Arthur threw the pillow beside him out of habit but the projectile merely stopped in midair and sunk gently down to the ground. Merlin smiled cheekily and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Idiot."

"Dollophead."

"Boys," Guinevere chided though she was grinning. "While it is wonderful to see the two of you acting as you always have, we really do need to discuss what's going on."

"Right, Merlin, why don't you enlighten us?" Arthur suggested.

Merlin shrugged. "Alright, though I don't understand half of it myself… I was living in Ireland as a hermit when my younger self was thrust into the nine hundreds. I think the Old Religion placed me under a powerful sleeping spell because I didn't wake up until a few weeks ago. It told me you had returned, Arthur, and were somewhere in London. On my way here, I decided to stop at Hogwarts only to find out that Voldemort had just barely been defeated and our past selves had just gone back in time. Rumors of my existence have gone wild in the Wizarding World but the biggest news is that the Death Eaters are still alive and wrecking havoc on muggles and wizarding folk alike."

"Are they the ones behind all the attacks that have been happening around Britain?" Arthur asked, remembering the incident at Somerset House.

Merlin nodded. "The Aurors have been working on detaining them and they're rather upset I'm not really helping."

"And why aren't you?" Guinevere wondered.

Merlin smiled. "I've been waiting for centuries for that prat over there to be reborn. My first task was to find Arthur and then I could focus on helping with the Death Eater attacks."

"But Arthur wasn't the only one to be reborn," said Freya.

"Exactly," Merlin nodded. "That was something I hadn't anticipated. Apparently the Knights of the Round have returned as well as you, Gwen, and Freya." He turned to smile fondly at the former druid to his left.

"Along with Morgana," Arthur prompted.

"I don't think Morgana is a threat this time," Freya repeated. "She doesn't have magic."

"A part of me feels you're right that she may no longer be a threat but what I really want to know is why she is here?" Guinevere muttered.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know."

"Gee, Merlin, that's really helpful," Arthur drawled.

Merlin scowled. "I don't have all the answers, Arthur; or did you forget that after all these years?"

"Well, when we returned from the future you were a pretty wise old man," Arthur smirked. "What happened to the all-knowing powerful warlock who used to give such infuriating advice? Did the wisdom leak out of your overly large ears?"

"I didn't have a prat to correct every waking moment of the day," Merlin bantered with his own smirk.

Guinevere placed a hand on Arthur's thigh in warning, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. Arthur bit back the prepared retort about to escape from his lips, trying to ignore the silent triumph in Merlin's grin. The king rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure Morgana doesn't have magic, Freya?" he pressed instead.

Freya nodded. "It would have manifest itself by now, for one, and for another –"

"- if it had, then she would have grown up in the magical world," Merlin finished.

"And as far as I know, Morgana is not a witch," Freya assured.

"Although I'm still baffled how they didn't seek _you_ out," Merlin mused, addressing his girlfriend.

"What do you mean?" Guinevere asked.

"I can turn into a cat," Freya replied in passing.

Arthur stared. "You can… what?"

Freya's cheeks darkened a little. "I've been able to transform into a black cat since birth," she revealed. "It's the only thing I can do and my parents, before they died, never bothered questioning it. They were surprisingly really accepting."

"You were the black cat on the wall earlier!" Arthur realized.

Freya smiled, nodding. "I was."

"How come Morgana and I didn't know?" Guinevere asked, slightly hurt.

Freya appeared apologetic. "I've been hiding this my whole life, Your Majesty. I wasn't about to share my deepest secret with my flatmates, even if I'd had my memories of the past when we first met – which I didn't. I remembered shortly after meeting Merlin again two days ago."

"Freya, please, call me Gwen," the queen gently admonished. "All my friends do."

"And I'm Arthur," the king added, deciding to make his opinion clear. "I would expect Merlin's love interest to be just as impudent to protocols as he is, after all."

Merlin merely grinned while Freya shyly nodded, her eyes downcast.

"So Morgana doesn't have magic," Arthur mused, leaning back into the comforts of the sofa, "but she also doesn't remember who she once was. I honestly don't want her to either."

"We can't stop that from happening," Freya sighed. "She's going to remember sooner or later, just like the knights."

"Will her magic return once she does?" asked Guinevere.

Merlin and Freya both appeared uncertain. "I'm not entirely sure but I don't think it will," Merlin muttered.

"But Freya can turn into a cat," Arthur countered. "Didn't she used to be…" he paused, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"A bastet," Freya finished, smiling. "I told you before that I don't blame you for what happened, Sire -I mean- Arthur," she corrected, "and I've been able to turn into a regular cat since I was reborn. I didn't turn into a bastet after meeting Merlin again."

"Which makes us believe that Morgana won't have her magic," finished Merlin, lightly squeezing Freya's hand.

"It makes sense, I suppose," Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But even if Morgana doesn't have her powers, her knowledge of the dark arts and her hatred towards us all are still rather formidable causes to be wary. We shouldn't let our guard down."

"We'll just have to be there when she remembers," Merlin answered, shrugging.

"And how do you propose that?" Arthur demanded. "We can't follow her around everywhere she goes until she does, Merlin!"

The warlock scowled. "I wasn't suggesting that, you cabbage head! Besides, I think that it's going to happen either today or tomorrow anyway since she already saw me – not to mention because she's dating Gwaine."

"Wait – _what?!_ " Arthur yelped.

Merlin's smile was grim but his eyes held a slight amount of humor as he shrugged. "The two of them are together, Arthur. They have been for the last two weeks."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Gwaine is my neighbor in this existence. He never told me he was seeing anyone steady! Well, then again, I haven't seen him bring home a woman in the last few weeks. I can't believe this." He paused, shaking his head. " _Gwaine_ is dating _Morgana?_ "

"Freya and I are both just as shocked as you," said Guinevere while patting his arm.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to wrap his head around it all. At the second Battle of Camlann, he'd witnessed Morgana strike Gwaine to his death shortly after locking Merlin inside a tree. Now the two foes were… he shook his head. He just couldn't see it.

"I can just imagine what will happen when both of them remember," Merlin muttered, his concern lacing through his words.

"We've got to find them both and make sure that doesn't happen," Arthur cried, fear coursing through him. Gwaine may be an idiot but he wasn't about to let the man be murdered again in this time. Not when all of them had been given a second chance.

"Morgana said she was going to meet him after stopping by her work," said Freya.

Arthur blinked. "Morgana has a _job?"_

Guinevere nodded. "As a librarian."

"As a…?"

Arthur couldn't fathom it. All he could see in his mind's eye was his evil half-sister sitting behind a desk glaring at anyone who approached. He also entertained the disturbing thought of her using her magic to toss people into bookshelves for speaking too loudly.

"I can't," he shook his head, "I can't even picture the idea of her being a librarian without attempting to kill someone."

Guinevere squeezed his hand. "I know this is going to sound surprising but the Morgana I've lived with for the last few months reminds me of the one we knew before she turned to evil. She's a good person, Arthur. I don't want what happened in the past to happen to her again."

Arthur looked to Merlin. The warlock was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, clasped hands resting over his mouth. His eyes were downcast in deep contemplation and the king wondered what he was thinking. Merlin glanced up at him and lowered his hands, straightening his back.

"We'll just have to face whatever happens when it comes," he muttered. "Even when Morgana remembers, she won't have her magic. I'll immobilize her if she attempts to hurt anyone."

Arthur nodded. "Do what is necessary, Merlin. I will not have any more bloodshed done by her hand. She's already caused enough pain in our past. We don't need her destroying the future."

Merlin agreed, his eyes sad. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he whispered.

"Besides Morgana, the knights will also remember soon," said Freya. "We were going to invite them over for Christmas. We can still do that. Maybe when all of them get together, their memories will return."

Merlin suddenly shifted and Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Merlin," he prompted, "what are you not telling us?"

The warlock smiled nervously. "Well, they kind of already got back together last night… after I was mugged in an alley just outside of Percival's apartment."

"What?" Arthur cried.

"Are you alright?" asked Guinevere, concerned.

"Merlin, why didn't you say anything?" Freya demanded.

"I was going to tell you this morning," Merlin said, addressing Freya, "but then Arthur showed up and this happened."

"Merlin, answer Guinevere's question," Arthur commanded instead of re-voicing it himself; he didn't want to appear like a girl after all, asking about feelings.

"I'm fine," Merlin answered, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Then tell us what happened," said Arthur.

Merlin made sure to send him a very annoyed look before diving into his tale of being saved by Gwaine and later meeting the rest of the knights.

"So now that they've all met you, do you think they'll remember like we did?" Guinevere asked, addressing the warlock.

Merlin shrugged. "I honestly don't know," he confessed, "but it wouldn't surprise me."

Arthur suddenly remembered his father and let out a groan.

"Arthur? What is it?"

Arthur stared at his wife, his answering frown displaying his inner dismay. "Not just the knights were reincarnated," he revealed.

"Who else was?" Merlin asked.

"My father."

"What?" Guinevere and Freya cried together.

Merlin was frozen in place. "Uther is back?!" he gasped.

Arthur nodded gravely. "He lives in America, overseeing the company we own."

"Of course you own a company," Merlin muttered, exasperated. "Great, just great! Morgana was bad enough! The second your father regains his memories and learns of the magical community, he'll more than likely start another Purge!"

"Merlin, calm down," Arthur so much as ordered. "I wouldn't allow him to do that."

"And who would believe him in this day and age?" questioned Guinevere. "Magic is considered fiction."

"Not if the Death Eaters can't be stopped!" Merlin countered. "The Ministry may be modifying the memories of muggles but that's not going to work for them like it has in the past. There are too many incidences and too many witnesses that are slipping past them. At this rate, magic will once again be exposed!"

There was a stifling silence as all in the room contemplated these words. Arthur leaned forward, his thoughts racing. "Perhaps," he began slowly, "perhaps that is meant to happen."

"What?" Merlin cried, horrified at the very suggestion.

"Hear me out, Merlin," Arthur consoled, his conviction growing, "When I asked you about my title all those years ago, do you remember what you told me?"

Merlin shook his head. "Arthur, we talked about your title many times."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the time, Merlin, that you explained that I am the Once and Future King because I was meant to return when Albion's need was greatest. Albion is all about uniting the magical and nonmagical communities together in peace, is it not? That's what we established back in our time. Perhaps now is the time to do so again."

Merlin's jaw dropped, his eyes as wide as saucers. If the situation wasn't so serious Arthur would have wasted no time reveling in his victory of causing his Court Sorcerer to lose his voice.

"That may very well be true," Guinevere whispered with a furrowed brow.

Merlin shook his head. "The Ministry would never go along with it. Not to mention all of the other magical governments throughout the world. Arthur, they never would allow us to break the Statute of Secrecy!"

"You told me before that you hated that statute, Merlin," Arthur reminded.

"I do but I don't think anyone else does," the warlock mumbled, conflicted. "This is serious, Arthur. Revealing who we are to the world… people won't believe us! And revealing entire magical communities? It will cause planet wide panic!"

"Merlin, I don't think I was meant to spend the rest of my life walking in my father's footsteps overseeing an oil company," Arthur ground out, frustrated. "I'm the Once and Future King and you are Emrys. We were destined to bring balance between our two peoples. Sorcerers have lived in fear long enough. You can't deny how right this feels, can you?"

Merlin's brow furrowed and to the king's shock, fear was found coursing through every visible ounce of the warlock he could see. Arthur stared in disbelief. One thing he'd never taken Merlin for was a coward. The man was the bravest he knew! But the person sitting before him did not possess the confidence Arthur had so heavily come to rely on. Merlin's terror was sure, his face white, and his form shaking. Arthur had never seen him like this.

Freya sent him a reassuring glance before focusing on her beloved. She rubbed his back soothingly and spoke in a gentle voice that reminded Arthur of a steady brook. "Merlin, you already know that Arthur is right. He's returned because it's time to start changing the world. The Old Religion has been waiting, _you_ have been waiting, for centuries. You _are_ magic, Merlin. Don't you want to be free again? To live in a world where magic is accepted, loved, and cherished?"

"I want that more than anything," Merlin whispered, "now that Arthur is back."

"You were promised that he would return when Albion's need is greatest," Freya soothed, repeating Arthur's earlier words. "And now he has. You've witnessed in the last few years how Voldemort's desire for power and dominance has brought about a slow and steady change. Magic is stirring. Can't you feel it?"

Merlin glanced up at her but he didn't reflect the smile she was displaying. "I feel it," he admitted, "but that's what terrifies me. I know the Old Religion is saying that the time has come but I'm afraid," he whispered. "I'm afraid of how the world will react – and not just the muggle world. The magical world will be in an uproar. There will be hundreds of people who won't agree with our proposal. I can already imagine there will be witches and wizards that will try to kill us for what we are trying to do."

"Well at least that will be the same," Arthur opined.

Merlin's disapproving eyebrow was very similar to Gaius's. "Arthur, this isn't something to be taken lightly. In the past at least I had the druids whose allegiance to me helped bring about Albion. The witches and wizards of today won't believe that I am who I say I am. There's been speculation, yes, but it's been more skeptical than convinced. I'm just one man. I'm afraid that if we go down this course that someone is going to cast a killing curse that I won't be able to deflect in time. I don't want to lose you again, Arthur. I don't think I can survive it a third time."

He sounded so broken and for a moment Arthur felt a pang of anger. Merlin had suffered so much in his unfortunately long life. The man's fears were sound and frankly the king couldn't blame him for feeling this way. But he also felt that it was vital for Merlin to overcome this fear.

Thrusting himself to his feet, Arthur marched over to Merlin and yanked him off the couch. The warlock let out a spluttering protest but the king silenced him with a look, his hands clasped firmly over Merlin's shoulders. Without blinking, Arthur decided to speak from his heart, trying to put all the conviction he possessed into what he was saying.

"Merlin, when I first met you, I not only thought you were a fool – I thought you were a _brave_ one. You are the most courageous man I have ever met. You're also the most powerful. You were given an ability I can never fully understand," he admitted, "but I can say without a doubt that you have strength beyond what you believe you do. You are Emrys, for Camelot's sake! You said so yourself the magic you possess is stronger than anything these petty witches and wizards practice with a stick. I'm not going to die from one of their curses, Merlin. Your magic won't allow that to happen.

"None on this earth have the caliber you do when it comes to magic and you harbor something few could even hope to acquire: loyalty and trust. You have the capability within you to be a leader. I saw it with the druids and the sorcerers in our day. They followed you because they saw you for who you truly are. Freya is right; you are magic itself. Those loyal to it today will stand beside you and welcome in the new age. They will help you and I rebuild Albion."

Arthur paused, allowing this to sink in. Merlin hadn't moved, his eyes on the ground. The king closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and plowed on.

"Merlin, despite how difficult it is for me to admit this," he paused, "I need you – and your incessant, idiotic, overbearingly optimistic cheer – in order to succeed in what I was born to do. I can't do this, achieve Albion, without you. It may take our entire lives but there is nothing that I would rather devote myself to than establishing peace. Will you help me, old friend, as you did all those years ago?"

Arthur waited, hoping that he'd reached the part of Merlin he knew was buried behind all of the despair and fear. It seemed an eternity passed before those swirling orbs of blue found those of their king and Arthur saw it: the courage, the loyalty, and the inner fire that had always burned behind his best friend's eyes.

Merlin grinned, clasping Arthur's shoulders. "What kind of fool would allow you to undertake such a responsibility, Arthur? You'd cause the end of the world if you attempted to do this on your own. Regretfully I'll have to step up and stand by your side just to make sure things are done properly."

Arthur's smile was as bright as the sun as he struck like a cobra, locking Merlin's head in his arm and grinding the knuckles of his left hand into his short ebony hair. "What was that, Merlin?" he called over the man's hissing protests. "Am I mistaken to assume you more or less called me incompetent?"

"Arthur!" Merlin protested, wiggling and twisting beneath the attack while Freya and Guinevere giggled in the background.

"Come again?" Arthur jeered. "I don't think I heard you!"

"Alright, I give, I give!" Merlin yielded and Arthur finally let him go.

Merlin's hair was completely ridiculous and the king couldn't help laughing. Chuckling too, but possessing far too much mischief in his countenance, Merlin's eyes flashed gold. The rug Arthur was standing on slipped out from underneath him and the king crashed to the ground in a royal heap. There was a shocked silence before Merlin, Guinevere, and Freya all broke out into a loud round of laughter.

"MERLIN!" Arthur shouted, twisting around and regaining his footing.

Merlin's cheeky grin was a welcome sight and the king couldn't bring himself to pick up the bowl on the table and throw it at his head. So instead he settled for storming over and punching Merlin in the arm, laughing all the while.

"Ouch!" Merlin protested, rubbing his arm. "Why'd you do that, you clotpole?"

"Honestly, I thought you were smart, Merlin," Arthur teased, "clearly when I punch you in the arm it's because I'm trying to encourage you to stay cheerful. It always works with the knights."

"Yeah, well I stick with my original opinion of them," Merlin voiced.

"And what might that be?"

"They're thick," he answered, his smirk matching that of the king's.

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder, shaking his head. "You'll never change."

"And you know that makes you happier than you'll ever admit," he answered, "since you're the one who told me to always be me."

Arthur could only grin.

* * *

 **The second half of this chapter will be up soon! Review please? I'd love to know what you guys thought of the King and Warlock's reunion!**


	9. Chapter 9

09: Finding Balance

"So, now that we've decided we're going to do the impossible and restore magic to the land, I have a suggestion."

"And what might that be, Merlin?" Arthur asked, resettling himself on the couch next to Guinevere.

"I think it would be wise to first focus on the knights and Morgana… maybe even come to a decision about your father's memories too…" Merlin mused.

"And Gaius," Arthur added, just remembering.

Merlin leapt out of his skin. "What?! Gaius is back?"

Arthur looked apologetic as he rubbed the back of his head. "Yes. He's my father's personal doctor."

Merlin stared. "Of course he is," he whispered.

Of all things, Gaius had been reborn, grown up to become a doctor, and was now (again) working for Uther. Merlin was frankly stunned that his mentor had returned but his elation was swallowed as fears of the past repeating itself grew even greater and he found himself unconsciously gripping Freya's hand.

"How are we going to restore Gaius's memories without affecting your father as well?" Guinevere wondered, concerned.

Arthur shook his head. "Maybe we can go to him?" he suggested.

"Where is he?" asked Merlin.

"Southern California," Arthur answered.

"America?" Freya breathed. "I've never been."

"I have several times," Merlin muttered. "It's a great country but believe me, the road to independence was a rough one."

"You were there when it happened?" Guinevere asked curiously.

Merlin nodded solemnly. "It was a rather interesting time. A lot occurred. I didn't take sides or anything; I just helped people who were injured – when the Old Religion allowed it of course."

Nobody really knew what to say to that so Guinevere cleared her throat and proposed, "Well, I think we should wait until the knights and Morgana remember before coming to a decision about Gaius - and perhaps your father, Arthur."

The king nodded. "I feel that would be best." Launching to his feet, Arthur stretched. "Well, come on then, Merlin."

Merlin blinked, confused. "Where are we going?"

"To tail Gwaine and Morgana," Arthur stated as if he thought it was obvious. "We don't want the two remembering and then killing each other, do we?"

Merlin's frown deepened. "No, we wouldn't want that."

Freya kissed his cheek. "Go on, Merlin, Gwen and I will be fine. We'll go to the store before they close and get things for celebrating the holiday. Even if Christmas is tomorrow and it'll be slim pickings there's bound to be something we can find to have a party."

"Which reminds me," Gwen muttered, "can we have it at your place, Arthur?"

The king froze and hesitantly shifted back and forth. "Oh, um, well, that should be fine, I guess."

A knowing smirk started climbing Merlin's face. "I take it you'll need to tidy up some?"

"Merlin – shut up."

"Yes sire."

Trying hard not to burst out laughing, Merlin shared an amused grin with the queen and Freya before following Arthur to the door. After wrapping themselves up in scarves, gloves, and coats, the two men bade their ladies farewell before stepping out into the bitter cold. Merlin buried his hands in his pockets and followed Arthur down the steps, feeling nostalgic. It had been many years since he'd walked in the shadow of his king. Even though a long red cape didn't trail in front of him nor did the slight jangle of chainmail reach his ears, it was still wonderful to walk with him again.

Merlin observed as Arthur trundled across the street to where the red Corvette sat, pulling out the keys and unlocking the expensive automobile. Merlin went to the passenger side but noticed Arthur had yet to get in. The king's hand rested against the door handle, his eyes clouded over, his brows drawn together in deep thought.

"Arthur?" Merlin prompted.

The king shook his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Merlin's concern grew. "Arthur, what is it? What's wrong?"

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, finding the concerned gaze of his Court Sorcerer. He shook his head again and got in the car. Merlin copied him, stepping out of the frigid cold. Arthur wasted no time turning the car on to warm it up but he didn't make any move to proceed into the street. Merlin was about to prompt the king again when he finally leaned forward resting his head against the top of the steering wheel.

"I've never felt this way before," he began, his voice hollow. "My memories have returned concerning the past, everything from the first one I remember as a child up until my death during the Second Battle of Camlann. But I have another life with memories in this time period, where I'm not a prince or a king and the things I worry about are what every other college kid does: finding their place in the world. But that's just it though, isn't it? I now know my place. What I'm afraid of, Merlin, is that it doesn't fit."

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur looked up at him and displayed insecurities Merlin hadn't seen since his days as a prince, acting regent, and newly crowned king. "I hold the title of Once and Future King but King Arthur is nothing but a remembered fantasy, a myth. I have slipped into the realms of imagination instead of reality, Merlin. All of us have. We don't have a place here in this world. I don't have a place.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed, "I don't have a kingdom, I don't have a people to govern; I don't even have a fortune of my own to use to support myself let alone anyone else! In this world, I'm Arthur James Head, son of Uther Head, company owner of Head Oil. I'm a twenty four year old college student going behind my father's back to study law instead of business, I don't have a job, and I lean completely on my father's income to sustain me. If you ask me, Merlin, that doesn't sound like a king. It sounds like a good-for-nothing egotistical prat who rides through life with his father's fortune. How can I even believe that I can change the world when the world doesn't even believe I truly exist?"

Arthur looked so defeated and Merlin couldn't help leaning over to take his shoulder. "Arthur, don't do this to yourself. You can't slip into the sea of doubt. Where is the legendary king who, mere minutes ago, buoyed my spirits? You had full faith in yourself back there at Gwen and Freya's. Why do you doubt yourself now?"

Arthur sighed, leaning his head back. "I guess it's the conflict of my two lives," he confessed. "Deep down, I know that with you and the others by my side we can conquer everything. But there is another part of me that fears all of this is a dream, that it's not real, and that one day I'm going to have to wake up."

Merlin contemplated this for a moment. "I guess that makes sense," he muttered. "You have the memories and experience of an ancient forty seven year old king but you also have the memories and insecurities of a twenty four year old college kid. The two are clashing inside and you're trying to make heads or tails of which is the right voice to listen to."

Arthur stared with wide eyes before nodding slowly. "That actually sounds about right."

"Why are you so surprised?" Merlin teased, "I've told you many times I'm much older and wiser than you are."

A smirk lit the young king's face. "Shut up, Merlin."

A moment of silence swept between the two of them before Arthur let out another sigh. "So, since my two lives are fighting against each other, what do you suggest I do, oh wise one?"

Merlin smiled, noting the king's light sarcasm. "I believe that you need to find the balance within yourself, Arthur."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"Well, your situation is unique because the prophecy foretold that you would rise again, meaning that Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, would return – not Arthur James Head – which is a ridiculous name, might I add –"

"-Merlin!"

The warlock grinned. "You know you agree with me." Ignoring Arthur's huff, he continued, "What I'm trying to say is, you are Arthur Pendragon. You always were and you always will be. I believe that the only reason you were reborn was so that you could gain knowledge of the modern world, to use it as a tool as you reestablished the land of Albion. I also believe that is why the others have returned in similar fashion."

"But why didn't you?" Arthur wondered, frowning. "Why did you have to be immortal? It isn't fair, Merlin. You had to live this entire time -through all of these centuries- alone. Don't think I don't know of your sufferings. I saw them while in Avalon. I watched your younger self live through confusion, fear, and anguish after being thrust into the nine hundreds. I also witnessed your older self struggle to find purpose after my actual death. I have no right to complain about how strange it is for me to know exactly how to wield a sword and change a car tire when you have had to deal with so much more."

"Well, I have a perfect explanation: Prattish kings get to relax while their Court Sorcerers do all the grunt work," Merlin deadpanned.

Arthur scowled. "Merlin, I'm being serious!"

"I know," Merlin replied, somberly. "I know," He sighed. "Arthur, I believe I lived through it all so I could help you become the king Albion needed you to be. Remember all those times when the things I'd learned from future wars and conflicts helped alter your decisions for the better?"

"How could I forget?" said Arthur, a small smile forming on his face. "You'd rub it in my face quite often how much wiser you were. You even trumped Gaius's wisdom! Now that was something everyone had to get used to!"

Merlin smiled. "And now we're here, in the twenty first century, which you have lived through instead of merely visited. You now know how everything works and since you're studying law – which I'm not surprised about by the way – you also understand the politics in today's world. Don't you see, Arthur? The Old Religion has been preparing you for fulfilling the prophecy. You successfully united Albion in the past, you traveled to the future and learned of the magical community that would one day exist, and now you have returned when said magical community is in disarray and the world is crumbling into chaos. The dawn has come to reunite the lands. You've been given all the tools you need in order to restore that which has been lost, the greatest being your allies. I will stand by you until the end, Arthur, and so will Gwen, the knights, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, as well as many others in the world. And what is this nonsense of not having a kingdom? Camelot still stands and it will welcome its true king home. Don't allow the doubts of the mind to destroy the truths of the heart, Arthur, for they are where your strength truly comes from."

Arthur stared at him, his blue eyes filled with admiration and a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He reached forward and took Merlin's shoulder. "Thank you, old friend. Once again your wisdom shines through and restores my confidence."

Merlin grinned. "Just like old times, my king."

"Just like old times," Arthur repeated.

[][][]

Ten minutes later, Arthur was pulling into an empty parking spot outside the London Library. Merlin had to admit it was slightly strange seeing Arthur drive a car – and a Corvette no less! The king was actually quite good behind the wheel though it was obvious he did enjoy speeding.

"I'm surprised we didn't get pulled over," Arthur admitted, referring to the police officer they breezed past going at least twenty miles over the limit.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "That's because I worked a little bit of magic to make us invisible. Honestly, Arthur, you really shouldn't speed. For one, it's dangerous, and for another it's against the law."

Arthur scowled. "Some laws are petty in the twenty first century, Merlin, and you know it."

"Some may be but I find going twenty miles over the limit in the middle of London quite reckless!"

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin."

"This coming from the man who nearly died of fright when we traveled in that cart while in Gringotts all those years ago," Merlin retorted.

" _Mer_ lin."

Merlin merely grinned at the warning in Arthur's tone but merely plowed on, "So do you still hate roller coasters?"

Arthur bristled. "I don't hate them, _Mer_ lin, because they're _safe_. What we traveled in under that horrid wizard bank was not a roller coaster but a death trap. There were several times the thing flew off the tracks for Camelot's sake!"

"You're exaggerating," Merlin teased in good humor.

"Oh, shut it," Arthur griped, turning his attention to the library entrance. "So, do you know if Morgana's in there still?"

Merlin sobered, his eyes roaming the lot. "There's a car over there and" – he branched out with his magic – "yes, there's someone in the building. I think it's her."

"Then Gwaine hasn't shown himself yet," Arthur muttered, turning the heater down a little since he felt like his face was melting. "Honestly, I still can't believe the two of them are…"

"I know," Merlin whispered, leaning back. "It's kind of hard to accept."

"Do you think it'll continue once they remember?"

Merlin frowned before shrugging. "I haven't the foggiest. There are two routes Morgana can take here: she could revert back to her devilish, corrupted self or she could choose to embrace her new life and try to make amends. If she chooses the latter, I'm going to give her a second chance."

"Of course you are," Arthur grumbled. "Your heart is sometimes bigger than your head."

Merlin smiled. "And for the most part it has brought me joy rather than heartbreak. You should try it sometime."

Arthur snorted. "You softened me quite a bit in my later years, Merlin, and you know it. I'd rather not return to being a marshmallow."

Merlin let out a deep laugh. "Oh, you prattish king, you were a marshmallow long before your later years! Your heart has always been tender; I and others merely helped to chip away the few rocks your cabbage –headedness created during adolescence. Speaking of, I'm quite glad I didn't have to find you as a prat again. It took years to fix that side of you."

Arthur gave him a friendly punch but he had to agree; not that he would ever tell Merlin that! "I wasn't that bad and I'm certainly not that bad in this life either!"

"No, I suppose not," Merlin grinned.

Just then the roar of a motorcycle interrupted them and the two looked out through the snow to see the familiar form of Gwaine removing himself from the bike.

"At least the fool had the sense to wear a helmet," Arthur remarked as Gwaine removed the article from his head and shook his long hair away from his face.

"Though it wouldn't surprise me if he only did because it's snowing," Merlin added. Arthur snorted in agreement. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Um, Arthur, I think he recognized your car."

Arthur swore for indeed Gwaine was coming their way and he wasn't merely walking. The man was running flat out along the asphalt as if being chased by the devil.

Arthur twisted around to Merlin. "Can you perform an invisibility spell?"

"What good will it do? He's already seen the car, dollophead!"

"Not on the car! Y _ou,_ idiot! I meant on _you!"_

Merlin frowned, confused. "Why would I do that?"

"Gwaine saw you yesterday. If he remembers, don't you think the first thing he'd do is try to see if I remember too? We both saw you at the rink, Merlin! That's when my memories started returning. It's highly possible that Gwaine remembers now too! But if that isn't the case then I don't want to have to explain why the strange man who performed 'a fancy light show' at the rink is in my car. I'd rather tell him the truth when we're with everyone else. Now, can you perform an invisibility spell or not?"

"Of course I can," Merlin huffed, feeling silly for not realizing this himself.

"Then do it!" Arthur snapped.

Merlin rolled his eyes which flashed gold. A moment later and he was invisible. Gwaine skidded to a halt just after that and began rapping urgently on Arthur's tinted window. Arthur double checked to make sure Merlin was indeed invisible before rolling down the glass.

" _What_ Gwaine?" he demanded in the most annoyed tone he could muster.

"Arthur! I thought it was you! Wait, what are you doing here?" Gwaine demanded, flustered.

"Does it matter? If you must know, I was talking on the phone," Arthur lied.

"In the middle of an abandoned parking lot?"

"Your observation skills are astounding," Arthur drawled. "If you hadn't noticed, it's snowing which isn't wise to drive in while talking on the phone."

"Oh… right," Gwaine's shoulders seemed to lower a little, "I thought you might be here because…"

Arthur decided to play ignorant. "Because…?"

Gwaine looked conflicted. "You mean… you don't…?"

"I don't _what?"_

Gwaine shook his head. "Nevermind," he mumbled, trying and failing to mask his disappointment.

Gwaine remembered. Merlin was sure of it. His conflict was plain to see; he was here but was beside himself as to what to do. Fortune did not appear to be in his favor because at that moment, Morgana appeared.

"Gwaine! I saw you pull up."

The knight became as rigid as a board as Morgana's arm wrapped around him and her lips graced his rugged cheek. Arthur's hand unconsciously tightened on the steering wheel. Merlin placed an invisible hand on his arm and squeezed in warning, silently sending the signal for Arthur to not do anything rash.

Morgana immediately picked up on Gwaine's discomfort. "Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

Merlin had to hand it to his friend; Gwaine could really act when he needed to. Putting on a dashing carefree smile, he wrapped an arm around Morgana's waist and kissed her full on the mouth. "I'm perfectly fine, love. I just happened to run into my neighbor. This is Arthur James. We're going to spend Christmas at his place tomorrow."

"Oh!" Morgana's green eyes lit up and Merlin witnessed surprise fill Arthur's face. It was the same reaction he'd experienced when meeting this woman the other day; she was nothing like the malicious witch. "Um, about that… Gwaine, my roommates and I were talking about all of us getting together with our boyfriends for Christmas."

Gwaine blinked. "Your roommates are Gwen and Freya, right?"

"That's right."

Gwaine glanced a little worriedly at Arthur. "And they're both dating someone?"

"Yes, Freya is dating a guy named Merlin and Gwen is dating –"

"– me," Arthur interrupted.

Morgana blinked. "What?"

"Your roommate, her name is Guinevere Coulby?"

"Oh my gosh! _You're_ the Arthur she was talking about?" Morgana gasped, clearly surprised.

Arthur smirked. "She's been talking about me? All good things, I hope."

Morgana's eyes narrowed but even from his vantage point Merlin could see the playful stir behind the light green depths. " _She_ may be fooled but any man who automatically invites someone to his flat as a first date gives me cause to be nervous."

"I mean her no ill will," Arthur assured in all the solemnity he could muster.

"Good because if you break her heart, I'll break every bone in your body and then bury you in the woods."

Gwaine and Arthur stared. Morgana's hardened expression disappeared as she let out a peal of laughter. "Goodness, I'm not seriously going to do that!" She sombered. "But I won't forgive you for breaking her heart. Gwen's my best friend, Arthur. I suggest you treat her well. Don't worry, I'll say the same thing to Merlin when I meet him. Freya, my other flatmate, is just as dear to me."

"I'll be sure not to get on your bad side then," Gwaine muttered, trying to lighten the dampened mood.

"So, since you're here, Arthur, has Gwen asked you yet about the six of us getting together for the holiday?" asked Morgana.

"She did and I'm fine with that," Arthur answered.

"Great! Oh, there might be a few others. Gwen's brother, Elyan –"

" –Guinevere already told me about her brother and his flatmates. I'm fine with having them over if they so choose to come."

"Alright. Well, maybe we can start the festivities early tonight and have a sleep over? Unless you don't want to do that," Morgana paused, nervous.

Arthur stared at her in surprise and Merlin couldn't blame him. This Morgana was so different from the one they had grown to know. The very suggestion of a sleepover was almost ludicrous! But Arthur found himself agreeing with her proposal anyway.

"Are you sure that's okay?" Gwaine asked, silent panic in his eyes.

Arthur wanted to reassure him that all of them would be fine with Merlin around but he couldn't give away that his memories had returned. Not yet. "It's fine," he said confidently.

Morgana's smile was happy and excited. "Christmas just got ten times better! Come on, Gwaine, let's go to the store to get some things. We'll meet you at your place tonight, Arthur. Say around seven?"

"That works," Arthur replied, slightly surprised.

"Excellent. It was nice meeting you," she smiled. "See you tonight!"

And with that Gwaine gave a half-hearted wave before his girlfriend dragged him across the yard to her car, practically skipping the whole way. His eyes were filled with panic as he gave Arthur one last look before reluctantly getting into the passenger side. Arthur rolled up his window, the numbing cold of his face ignored due to the shocking meeting that had just taken place.

Merlin removed the invisibility spell and cleared his throat. "Well, that was interesting."

"Did you see Gwaine's face?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded. "Poor bloke. He remembers but obviously she doesn't. I was afraid of that."

"Do you think she'll remember while alone with him?"

"Are you worried she will?"

"A little," Arthur admitted.

"I think he'll be safe for now," Merlin answered, fingering his nails. "Just in case, I cast a silent protective charm on him that should deflect any angry curses she tries to inflict - if she does remember, that is."

Arthur's shoulder relaxed as he weakly laughed, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you did."

"So," Merlin started to grin, "I take it we have an apartment to get in order by seven tonight, seeing as you're expecting company."

Arthur groaned. Merlin needed no further confirmation. Instead he merely busted up laughing.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur grumbled, reversing and pulling back out onto the street to head to his apartment.

From the way he was reacting Merlin knew without doubt that Arthur's apartment would be a mess. Several minutes later, the warlock found himself standing in the middle of his king's private flat, surveying the area with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, one thing hasn't changed," he chuckled. "You're a complete pig, Arthur."

Without having to look he stopped the pen that was flying towards his head with a flash of his eyes. Turning around, he gave Arthur his biggest grin. The king merely huffed, folded his arms, and stuck his nose in the air. Yep, some things never change.


	10. Chapter 10

10: Return of the Past

Cleaning the flat didn't take too long thanks to the help of Merlin's magic. While Arthur took care of organizing his school work, Merlin picked up the clothes, made the bed, and rearranged the furniture.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" Arthur asked as he placed his textbooks in a neat pile on his desk.

Merlin paused in his finger directing towards the broom that was currently sweeping the floor on its own. "What? Having a sleepover?"

Arthur let out a sigh as he collapsed onto the now straightened sofa. "I'm just nervous about how the others are going to react to Morgana. Heck, I don't even know how I'm going to react! How can you be so calm, Merlin?"

"I'm not," the warlock answered honestly, "But I know that fretting around isn't going to solve anything. So instead I'm focusing on magically protecting your flat just in case Morgana's magic comes back and she tries to kill us all."

"Really?" Arthur asked curiously. "I hadn't noticed amidst all the cleaning charms you were using."

Merlin prompted the broom to return to its rightful home now that it was done sweeping the floor. "Well, it's thanks to your sloppiness that I had to use so many." Dodging a pillow, he casually continued, "I've shielded the entire area, including your balcony. Even if magic is used, nobody outside the flat will be able to see anything."

Arthur looked around the room as Merlin returned the pillow to its proper place. "You know, I was going to hire someone to clean but it appears you did a good job without help."

Merlin smirked. "I suppose it was too hard for your prattish self to do it on your own?"

"Merlin, even in this lifetime I don't have to clean up after myself. I grew up in a mansion where maids and butlers did all the work."

"Of course," Merlin chuckled, "Should have guessed you'd be a spoiled little rich kid."

Arthur threw another pillow at him. Merlin ducked, dodging the projectile just as his phone started to ring. He smiled at the caller ID. "Hello Freya," he greeted.

"Hi Merlin," she replied, a smile in her voice. "Gwen and I finished shopping. Should we meet you at Arthur's?"

"Yes, please. Do you need the address?"

"That would be nice."

Merlin glanced at Arthur expectantly. The king rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch, walked into the kitchen, and came back with a letter. Merlin eyed him curiously but read aloud the address.

"Great, thanks," Freya muttered after writing it down. "Right, we'll see you two in a few minutes then."

"Alright, be safe."

"We will. I love you."

Merlin's face softened. "I love you too."

Arthur was watching him curiously even after he had returned the letter to its original home in the kitchen.

"What?"

Arthur grinned. "It's just kind of weird hearing you say those words to someone."

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "As weird as someone not knowing their own address?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I haven't lived here long enough to memorize it. Seriously though, I'm happy for you, Merlin."

Merlin's expression softened as he thought of Freya. "I shouldn't have hid her from you before. It was always so hard to talk about her, given what happened."

"I'm sorry it happened in the first place," Arthur said regretfully. "But the important thing is that now things are different, the two of you can be together."

Merlin nodded even though he was still afraid that history would repeat itself. He decided not to voice his fears, however. It was Christmas Eve after all. Speaking of… "Well, since the girls are going to be coming in a few minutes, I should probably finish up."

Arthur looked around in consternation. "What are you talking about? The place looks fine."

Instead of answering, Merlin slowly swept his hand across the room, his eyes flashing gold. Large garlands of pine sprung up along the sides of the counter, walls, and ceiling, hanging in small arched patterns. In between each arch was a red bow with silver bells on either side. A bundle of mistletoe appeared over the kitchen doorway as well as the hall. Next to the fireplace a Christmas tree sprung into existence, decorated with red and gold ornaments, tinsel, and bows. Scented candles decorated multiple surfaces filling the room with the smells of pine and sugar cookies. Plastic snowflake confetti littered almost every surface.

"I would have added snow falling from the ceiling but that would have been overkill, I think," Merlin muttered, surveying his work.

Arthur looked around the room with his mouth slightly open. He barely recognized the place. "Please tell me you can get rid of all this as easily as you put it all up?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No, it's not that. I just don't want my flat to look like a glorified Christmas social after the holiday."

Merlin grinned. "Don't worry; it'll be easy to tear down. One wave of my hand will clear it up instantly."

Arthur relaxed. "That's good. Right, well, you've really outdone yourself."

"Really? I thought the last time we celebrated your birthday was better than this," Merlin replied, remembering the grandiose decorations, fanfare, and magical entertainment he'd supplied at the sovereign's last birthday before his untimely death.

"Hmmm, well, you had all of Camelot to decorate versus a small flat," Arthur mused.

There was a knock on the door and Arthur allowed Merlin to answer while he continued to laze on the couch. Merlin wandered down the hall and opened the door. Gwen and Freya greeted him with a smile, both loaded down with several packages.

"Goodness, did you buy the whole store?" he teased as he eased their burdens with a flash of his eyes, the bags zooming into the kitchen.

"It's nice to see you too," Freya commented, kissing him on the cheek before she and Gwen followed after their purchases.

Arthur intercepted Gwen for a kiss to which she obliged. Pulling away she noticed the living room and her eyes brightened. "Oh, Arthur, the place looks lovely. All Merlin's doing, I presume?"

Merlin waved away her praise. "It's nothing really."

"It's perfect," Freya complimented, kissing his cheek.

Merlin smiled, pleased, before heading into the kitchen with Freya right behind him. The two set to work emptying the bags and preparing the food. Gwen wanted to help but Merlin forbade her from setting foot in the kitchen. Arthur didn't even try, knowing Merlin would have refused his help too; besides, he never was good in the kitchen anyway.

Merlin moved around the surprisingly fully stocked kitchen with practiced ease, Freya at his side. The two were almost dancing as they worked. Soon the turkey was in the oven and the ham was sliced and carved, covered with foil until the party would start. Potatoes were roasting on the stove along with several other vegetables. Smaller slices of meat and cheese were arranged around one plate with cut fruit in another. A bowl of mixed nuts sat next to a variety of candies near three bottles of wine. Merlin and Freya stepped back, admiring their work.

"Looks like we're ready," Merlin muttered, coming up behind Freya and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She leaned in to his embrace, sighing as he kissed the side of her neck. "And with twenty minutes to spare," she muttered, staring at the clock.

"Hmmm, twenty minutes," Merlin mused, kissing the back of her ear. "A lot can happen in twenty minutes…"

He buried his nose through her loose dark locks before he found the side of her neck, kissing it softly. Freya inhaled an excited breath, tilting her head to the side to further expose the area. Merlin gently spun her around in his arms so she was facing him. Her large brown eyes softened as she reached up to caress his face.

"How long I have wished we could be together like this," she whispered, searching his eyes.

"I know," he murmured, closing the distance between their lips, claiming hers with his own.

A thrill of excitement rushed through him and his hands wrapped around her back at the same time hers climbed into his hair. One kiss became many, the two enjoying the reactions produced from the other as each gesture was given.

"Merlin, have you finished in here yet –?"

Merlin hastily broke away from Freya to find Arthur standing in the kitchen doorway with a look of pure surprise on his face. Everyone turned the color of a strawberry.

Merlin coughed into his hand. "Um, we're just waiting for the turkey. I sped up the process with magic so it should be ready when everyone gets here."

"Oh – right – good," Arthur coughed too. "Well… I'll just leave then…" and the king made a hasty exit, leaving a rather flustered Merlin and Freya behind.

An awkward silence passed between the couple before Merlin sent Freya a sheepish grin. She smiled hesitantly. "I should probably change," she muttered. "Gwen and I thought everyone should dress up a little. We bought new dresses."

"Oh." Merlin ignored the slight disappointment in his chest from not being able to continue where they'd left off. There would always be another time, he silently supposed. His smile grew. "Then I'd best make sure to change too. Any suggestions?"

"A nice shirt and slacks would do," she replied, kissing his cheek. "Don't think about it too much. I'll be back in a minute."

And with that she walked out of the kitchen, Merlin watching her every move. Sighing happily, he wandered into the living room where Arthur was sitting alone, flipping through a magazine. The awkwardness from earlier returned as Merlin sat down opposite him in the armchair.

After a pause, Merlin tried to ease the atmosphere. "So, where's Gwen?"

"She's using my room to change," Arthur answered, setting the magazine aside. "Freya is too. Apparently we're supposed to dress up. They threw this at me before they shut the door." He held up a red button down shirt.

Merlin chuckled. "Well, red was always your color."

Arthur rolled his eyes before removing his current attire to change into the new shirt provided. Merlin used magic to transform his tee into a fancy blue v-neck sweater, revealing a thinner red shirt underneath.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Merlin… I want to apologize about earlier – I didn't know you two were, uh, having a moment…"

Merlin smirked a little from Arthur's discomfort even if he was a little embarrassed. "We may have gotten a little carried away… I kind of forgot where we were for a while…"

It was Arthur's turn to smirk. "That's usually what happens when you're in love with someone, Merlin. You tend to forget there are other people around you. At least you know what you're doing; I would have hated having to talk to you about women."

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, his face turning red. "I don't need you to explain that to me!"

The king's smirk deepened. "Out of the two of us, I think I have the most experience."

"I can't believe we're even talking about this!" Merlin groaned.

"Well, this is a particular topic we never really had in common in the past," Arthur mused before immediately regretting what he said since it was his fault Merlin couldn't be with Freya before. "Sorry," he hastily muttered, "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"Arthur, it's okay," Merlin assured, sending a genuine smile, "I've already forgiven you for what happened, remember? And you're right; this _is_ something we haven't really had in common." He fidgeted. He kind of wanted to talk about his relationship with Freya but he didn't know exactly what to share so he lamely settled for, "It's nice."

Arthur chuckled. "Wait until you're married."

"Arthur!"

"What? You can't tell me that you don't want to get married." The king eyed him curiously.

Merlin's blush deepened and he rung his hands. If he was being truthful, yes, he did want to marry Freya. He'd been waiting for over fifteen hundred years! But…

"I'm afraid," he confessed, his eyes on the floor.

"Of what? Sure, it's a big change and a huge commitment, but it's worth it."

Merlin shook his head. "That's not it."

Arthur frowned. Scooting closer to his friend, he rested a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "What's troubling you?"

Merlin let out a long sigh, running his hands through his short hair, causing the ends to stick up. "I lost her once, Arthur. I'm afraid history is going to repeat itself. The Old Religion took her away from me before because it saw her as a threat to our shared destiny."

"I won't let anything happen to her this time," Arthur promised protectively. "We can still fulfill our destiny with you as a married man. Look at me! I was able to marry."

"Yes but Gwen played -and still plays- a key role in helping you be the Once and Future King."

"And Freya doesn't do the same for you being Emrys?"

"Emrys is the protector of the King, Arthur. I can't protect you if I'm trying to protect Freya too. I'm terrified that there may come a day when I will have to choose between you two… and I know who I'll choose – and that hurts, in a way, knowing that I will choose protecting you over the woman that I love. But I know I can't help it. It's in my genetic code to protect and serve you first and foremost."

Merlin wasn't bitter. He stood by his words: he was happy to be Arthur's servant until the day he died. But it still hurt sometimes, especially when matters of the heart got involved.

Arthur's frown was deep as he contemplated Merlin's confession. After a while, he filled with resolve. "If your job is solely to protect me, then I can assign someone to always protect Freya."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"I hate to agree with what you've said, Merlin, but I know you're right," Arthur sighed. "And that makes me feel guilty, knowing that I'm the one coming between you two."

"Don't feel bad!" Merlin protested.

Arthur held up a hand. "Merlin, I'm the king and I'm not changing my mind about this. Since you have to protect me, I will make sure Freya is cared for. I'll assign one of the knights to be her personal bodyguard. Percival was my first choice. What do you think?"

Merlin's jaw dropped. "You're willing to give up Percival? He's one of your strongest fighters!"

"And he's perfect for the job," Arthur mused, ignoring Merlin's shocked expression. "He's faithful, kind, loyal, understanding, and protective. I'm sure he'll take the job without hesitation."

Merlin shook his head and sighed. "Fine, but let me run it by Freya first – and this only happens if Percival accepts after he has his memories."

"Deal," Arthur grinned. "So, when are you going to propose?"

"Arthur!"

It was then that the door to the bedroom clicked open, providing Merlin the perfect distraction for the king. Gwen stepped out first in an absolutely adorable knee length red dress with black boots and stockings. Arthur's eyes lit up, the current conversation completely forgotten. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the king slowly leave the couch and meet his wife – well, girlfriend, currently – to compliment her with a kiss.

Merlin would have paid them more attention except for the fact that Freya appeared. Her knee length dress was blue, the same color as his sweater, the lacy over layer exposing her shoulders and collarbone underneath. Her hair was pulled away from her face, her ears and neckline decorated with simple sparking white jewelry. Dark brown boots hid her calves. She was beautiful.

Copying Arthur, Merlin left his seat and met Freya halfway. "You look beautiful," he muttered, kissing her.

There was a knock on the door before it opened of its own accord.

"Arthur?"

"Come on in, Gwaine," Arthur called, rolling his eyes. "He's the only person – besides you Merlin – who simply barges in."

Gwaine appeared, wearing a rather nice green dress shirt and black slacks, his arm leading along none other than Morgana who wore a similar green colored dress that hugged her frame and exposed her back. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun off to the side, a few loose strands of hair hanging about her pallid features. She smiled warmly when she greeted Gwen and Freya extending a polite nod to both Arthur and Merlin.

Gwaine was staring at Merlin, his eyes narrowed and calculating. Merlin caught his gaze and grinned. The knight seemed conflicted so Merlin decided to make things easier on him. He winked. Gwaine's jaw dropped.

Arthur cleared his throat. "It's unusual for you to be on time, Gwaine."

Gwaine started, recovering from his temporary shock. Shrugging, he put on a smile. "Well, that tends to happen when you have a lady who doesn't want to be late."

"The place looks lovely," Morgana commented, eyeing the décor.

"Merlin really knows how to decorate," Arthur smirked.

There was another knock on the door and Gwen decided to be the one to answer it this time. Merlin was in perfect position to see the hushed exchange going on in the hallway between her and the new arrivals.

"Gwen," Elyan greeted though he sounded a little subdued.

"Oh Elyan, come here," Gwen ordered, wrapping her arms around her brother.

"I'm sorry," Elyan muttered, "I reacted the same way when father died the first time. I'm so sorry, Gwen. I shouldn't have shut you out."

"We dealt with our grief differently," Gwen soothed, smiling up at him before addressing the three men behind him. "Leon, Percival, Lancelot."

"My lady," Leon inclined his head.

"You all remember?" she whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

"We do," Lancelot answered, nodding.

"My lady, is the king…?" asked Percival.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur who appeared to be debating whether or not he should go to the door as well. Morgana was being perfectly distracted by Gwaine and Freya at the moment. Arthur caught Merlin's gaze and the warlock nudged his head to the side before kissing Freya's temple.

"We'll be right back," he promised.

She nodded, sending him a smile. Merlin got up and Arthur followed him. When they reached the hall, Arthur passed him, coming up behind Gwen and smiling widely at his men.

"Well, this _is_ a surprise, isn't it gentlemen," he greeted, grinning at them.

"Sire!" Elyan breathed.

Gwen flapped her arms to quiet him. "Morgana is here," she whispered.

"What?!" the three cried in horror.

"Perhaps we should take this out into the hall?" Merlin suggested.

"Merlin!" Lancelot shouted, finally seeing his friend peeking out from around his sovereign's shoulder.

" _Shhh! Outside!"_ Gwen ordered, flapping her arms again.

The knights stepped back so the three could exit, Merlin shutting the door quietly behind him. There was a round of firm embraces amidst laughter before everyone stepped back to admire the miracle of living again.

"It's so good to see you, Sire," said Percival with a grin.

Arthur smiled warmly. "And you. Merlin tells me he ran into the four of you the other night. Is that when you remembered?"

Leon was the one to answer. "It was. We woke the next morning from dreams of the past. As we were sharing them with each other, our memories returned."

"Though I have to admit, it was weird remembering that I died during the Hogwarts battle instead of in our own time like the rest of you," Elyan muttered.

Guinevere wrapped her arms around her brother. "That was one of the worst days of my life. I didn't get to say goodbye."

"And hopefully you won't have to this time," he muttered, smiling comfortingly.

She smiled warmly at him, trying to keep her tears at bay. Arthur looked at all the knights with fondness. It was so good to see them all together again.

"I suspect Gwaine's memories returned similarly to when the rest of yours did," Arthur speculated.

"Gwaine? Is he here?" asked Lancelot.

"Yes and he brought a date," Merlin smirked.

"Why do I get the feeling I already know who it is?" Leon murmured with a sense of foreboding.

"He's dating Morgana," Gwen revealed.

There were exclamations of surprise and shock.

"Does _she_ remember?" asked Lancelot frantically.

"No," Arthur replied with a sigh, "which poses a problem since the rest of us do."

"Well, this is going to be a fun evening," muttered Elyan, troubled. "What if she remembers like we did? She'll surely try to murder us all in our sleep!"

"I'll stop her before that can happen," Merlin assured. "Besides, I don't believe Morgana has magic this time. The couple of times I've run into her, I haven't sensed it."

"But could it come back?" Leon pressed.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. We'll just have to wait and find out."

"Something none of us are fond of doing," Arthur sighed. "But, this is a party. We're gathered as friends to celebrate the holiday so we need to pretend that's the only thing we're doing. We can't let Morgana sense our anxiety or she'll grow suspicious. I'm not saying to become careless; be on guard but do so in a fashionable way."

The knights all nodded.

"And I think it best to drop any titles for now," Merlin advised. "I'd rather avoid having to explain that."

"Agreed," Arthur muttered.

"Well, now that's settled, shall we go back in?" asked Gwen.

"Lead the way, my lady," Arthur grinned, taking her hand.

"Arthur, what did I just say about titles?" Merlin griped.

"There is no shame in calling one's significant other by a term of endearment, Merlin. Perhaps you should try it."

Merlin could feel the knights' stares of curiosity but chose to ignore them. They'd find out soon enough anyway. Reentering the living room, all of them were therefore very much surprised to see Gwaine and Freya both hovering over Morgana who appeared to have passed out on the couch.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Arthur muttered after surveying the situation.

"You and me both," Merlin whispered. "What happened?" he asked in a louder voice.

"I don't know," said Freya, slightly worried. "One minute we were talking and the next she fainted clean away."

"I experienced something similar after getting home to my place the other night," Gwaine muttered. He then noticed the others. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that everyone remembers?"

Merlin caught Arthur's eye, seeing that he too was tempted to mess with Gwaine but the two silently agreed against the idea; although, if the situation wasn't so delicate, they probably would have.

"Sorry we hid it from you earlier, Gwaine," Arthur grinned. "Tell me, what on earth made you decide to date the woman who killed you?"

Gwaine was about to reply when Morgana's eyes flew open, her body jolting upright as she cried out with a gasp.

* * *

 **I know, I know, cliffhangers make you angry. Don't worry though. I won't leave you hanging on the edge for too long...**

 **Reviews are love!**


	11. Chapter 11

11: Clemency

Morgana's lungs felt like they were on fire as her head pounded with a monstrous headache. Visions of her past life were clicking into place, filling an empty space within her mind that she hadn't realized was even there. In seconds she felt her previous confusion, her obsession, her hatred, and her loneliness. Her heart began to ache at the emptiness of it all. She also felt the hope, the happiness, and the comfort of friends she'd gained in her new life. All these emotions and memories crashed upon her, leaving her dazed. It wasn't until her eyes landed on Merlin that she stilled.

Fear gripped her as she realized where she was and just who she was with. Merlin was closest to her, his hand slightly raised. Arthur, Gwen, Freya, and the Knights of the Round Table stood behind him, all of them eyeing her warily. Morgana's gaze lingered on Gwaine, her heart slightly clenching in conflicting emotions.

She'd killed him. She had immediately regretted it, only realizing after watching him fall beneath her blade that she would miss the gallant hero. It had been too late for her _then_ but fate seemed to be giving her a second chance _now_ – except Gwaine was staring at her just as cautiously as the others, his eyes speaking loud and clear: _you killed me… I don't think I can trust you._

Why did that _hurt_ so much?

Time seemed to stand still as she sat there staring up at all the people whom she used to hate. How odd it was; now that she'd lived a decent life in this century she didn't desire to hurt any of them. She suddenly realized why that might be. She didn't have magic this time and she hadn't grown up in the home of Uther Pendragon. She had been raised by her single mother until she'd died a year ago to cancer.

Noticing Merlin's hand was still raised, she felt herself growing angry. "For heaven's sake, lower your hand, Merlin. I'm not going to kill anyone," she snapped, folding her arms and looking away defiantly.

"Forgive me for being cautious!" Merlin snapped back. "I thought it necessary seeing as last time we met you locked me in a tree, killed Gwaine, and slew Arthur with Mordred's blade."

Morgana scowled. "And you retaliated by killing me with his after you freed yourself. I'd say we're even, wouldn't you?"

Merlin lowered his hand but he still stood between her and the others. "How much do you remember?"

"Everything," she sighed, her shoulders sagging. _Gracious, she had a headache!_ Chuckling softly, she mumbled, "This isn't exactly how I was planning to spend Christmas, recovering memories where I'm an evil witch that nearly destroyed Albion. What are you going to do now? Lock me up?"

There was silence for a moment and then…

"You regret it."

Morgana's neck snapped up, her green eyes meeting Gwaine's steady gaze. She couldn't bring herself to breathe. Gwaine had said it as a statement not a question. Morgana began to feel uncomfortable since the others were still looking at her skeptically. She dropped her gaze, studying the floor.

 _"Do_ you?" Arthur asked, penetrating the silence.

"Do I _what?"_ she snapped, unable to look at her half brother.

"Do you regret it," he reiterated, slightly annoyed.

Morgana sighed. She was so tired. "Even if I told you I did, I don't think you'd believe me."

"You're right," Arthur answered, his tone hard, "I wouldn't."

"You see?" she snapped, leaping to her feet, her anger masking her hurt. "No matter what I try to say, the only thing any of you will ever be able to see when you look at me is the horrible, evil High Priestess of the Old Religion! Even if I no longer have magic, you'll still remain suspicious of me. Frankly I can't blame you. I did horrible things in the past. I destroyed so many things, so many people. But this time is different. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I just want…" she paused, her eyes burning.

No. She wouldn't cry. She was more dignified than this! She would not allow them to see her so weak!

Swallowing with great difficulty, she continued, "In this life I grew up away from Camelot, away from Uther, without magic. I was raised by my single mother until she died from cancer. I don't want to hold grudges against anyone. I just want to finish school and live a normal life."

She looked at Gwaine when she finished, allowing herself to picture what she had been for the last two weeks: a small apartment shared with him, a ring on her finger, a simple life full of happiness. Who was she kidding?! Why on earth would Gwaine continue to date her? She'd murdered him! Who in their right mind would want to be with someone that had done such a thing?

She had committed so many atrocities. How could she hope for clemency when she had ripped apart these people's lives? Any whiteness she'd possessed in this life had become drowned in black, painting her soul so thickly that nothing could penetrate the stain. She was doomed to live the rest of this life in exile, alone and friendless, just as she had in the past. Except this time she would not allow bitterness to consume her. Hatred had not brought her the happiness she'd craved and it certainly wouldn't now. No, instead she would leave, leave her current company and move somewhere else where she could wallow and decay. It was what she deserved after all she'd done.

"I guess I'll go," she muttered, eyes downcast. "Don't worry; I won't trouble any of you ever again. I've caused enough pain and I don't want to further spoil the evening."

Something wet hit her collarbone. She inwardly swore. Stupid tears; they'd betrayed her. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a few hesitant steps forward. Nobody moved. That was good. But it also _hurt._ A part of her wished someone would stop her, would ask her to stay. She so desperately wanted to _belong,_ to no longer be _lost_. Couldn't they see how badly this hurt? How conflicted she felt? Part of her was disgusted that she would long for their acceptance but the greater part knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. Every person in the history of mankind wanted to feel as if they belonged somewhere. She'd turned her back on her family and friends in the past. She didn't want to do so again. But she couldn't bring herself to ask for forgiveness because she deserved the rejection. She'd lost their trust and friendship the moment their memories had returned.

No wonder Gwaine had been acting differently this morning! He'd remembered. And yet he had stayed with her the entire day, had held her hand, kissed her cheek, helped her pick out her dress. He really was something else. What kind of man stayed with a woman who had been the cause of his demise in a previous life?

One who was selfless, honorable, and strong: a true Knight of Camelot.

But a Knight of Camelot would never desire to be with a witch.

Morgana sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn't even made it to the door yet. She hadn't wanted to show her pain but her soul had other ideas. Someone grabbed her arm and somehow she knew exactly who it was. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to get a handle on her emotions.

"And just where do you think you're running off to?" Gwaine asked in a neutral tone.

Morgana slowly turned around and faced him. Gwaine's expression was blank, his emotions hidden. "I don't know," she admitted. "Away."

Gwaine studied her a moment. "Then I'm coming with you."

 _"What?!"_ The shout was a collective one. Morgana's eyes widened.

"Gwaine, you can't be serious!" Elyan protested.

The knight turned to face his friends. "I can't very well let a lady venture out into this world alone. It's even more dangerous now than back in our day."

Morgana gently removed Gwaine's hand. "You can't come with me, Gwaine."

"And why not?" he asked defiantly.

Oh how torn she was! Gwaine was offering everything she longed for but she couldn't accept it. She didn't deserve it.

"You need to stay here," she mumbled. "Your friends are here."

Gwaine suddenly surprised her by grabbing her shoulders and kissing her, aggressively and passionately. Morgana didn't respond at first, too caught up in her shock; but then she found herself displaying all her secret longing in reciprocation. Her eyes closed and her tears redoubled, her heart clenching with the conflict she still felt within her mind. She shouldn't be kissing him. She should be rejecting him! But she couldn't. This was what she wanted, what she needed.

Gwaine forced them apart but kept his hands on her shoulders. "Is that enough for you?"

Stunned silence filled the room. Morgana didn't know what to say. "Why?" she finally whispered.

Gwaine's roguish grin reached all the way up to his dark brown eyes as he shrugged. "You're worth taking the risk."

"Don't say that!" she snapped. "I tortured you many times – the last leading to your death."

"True but there were moments when it wasn't so bad," Gwaine mused, "and the last couple of weeks have been torture free."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're insane."

"No, he's Gwaine," Merlin sighed. "And he isn't the only one that doesn't want you to go, Morgana."

Morgana's eyes widened as she gazed upon the one man she was sure would never be able to see her in a different light. Merlin held her gaze, hundreds of different emotions playing from his ancient eyes.

"Merlin, you can't be serious?" Arthur demanded, upset. "After everything she's done?"

"Morgana turned to evil because there was no one there for her, Arthur," Merlin stated. "I blame myself for what you became in the past, Morgana. I could have reached out to you, helped you, but instead I hid behind the prophecies Kilgharrah fed to me. I see now what Freya has been trying to tell me. The Old Religion has given all of us a second chance to make right the things we did wrong. I'm willing to put the past behind us if you are."

Morgana remained frozen in place. She didn't know what to say. Biting her lip, she glanced at Freya who was smiling encouragingly.

Taking a steady breath, she decided to just let it all out. "I _do_ want to move forward, Merlin, but I can't lie and say there isn't a part of me that still feels animosity towards you. You poisoned me."

"I know and there isn't a day that I don't regret it," he answered honestly, "but if the situation were the same, I'd do it again. The safety of Camelot was in jeopardy and only your death could break the enchantment. I did what I had to do."

Morgana studied him silently, finally listening to him instead of blocking out his words with her hatred. She thought back on that fateful day, remembering how terrified she was, finding everyone else asleep, and the immense relief she felt when seeing Merlin and Arthur awake. She hadn't understood what was going on then but now that she was looking back and she had a deeper understanding of the Old ways, something clicked into place.

"I was the vessel."

Merlin stood there silently a moment before nodding, "Yes."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Arthur demanded.

"Remember that time when everyone in Camelot was asleep?" Merlin asked.

"When the Knights of Medhir were revived?"

Merlin nodded. "Powerful spells like the one used that day need a vessel in order to continue. Morgause's enchantment made Morgana the vessel. As long as she lived, Camelot would remain asleep."

"So you tried to kill her," Gwen muttered.

Merlin nodded. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I really do regret it, Morgana," he said, shamefaced.

Morgana sighed before allowing a small, sad smile to lift the corners of her mouth. "I can see that you do – now that I'm not blinded by hatred. I don't fault you, Merlin. You're Emrys. Your king comes first."

Merlin nodded. "And he always will."

Morgana's smile grew a little more. "I don't doubt it."

"So… can we start over?" Merlin asked, suddenly hesitant. "We've both been given a rare opportunity and, I don't know about you, but I'd rather the past not repeat itself."

Morgana still hesitated. She wanted to accept… but she longed to know what the others thought of her. She turned her gaze on Arthur who was looking at her with an expression she knew quite well. He was silently weighing every pro and con, his mind a jumbled mess as it sorted through the chaos. Sensing he needed some time, she turned her gaze on Gwen, her first true friend. The woman held her head high, her expression set in stone. Morgana's heart dropped. Gwen wouldn't forgive her. She'd messed up her life so many times in the past, twisting her emotions, playing with them in such an adulterated manner. Nobody deserved what had happened to her.

Gwen stepped forward. "If you ever hurt me or any of us the way you did in the past, I'll run you through with Arthur's sword myself," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

Morgana's jaw dropped. "What?"

Gwen sighed. "Look, Morgana, I've spent the last five months with this new version of you and I honestly consider that Morgana to be my friend. The witch is my enemy. Seeing as you want to denounce that life, then I'm willing to denounce my prejudice. But not without warning: hurt any of us and I promise you that I will be the last face you'll ever see."

Morgana couldn't even dare to hope. "I promise I won't," she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes.

Gwen's expression softened. "I believe you."

"Well I have no quarrel with you," Freya assured her. "I know that the evil in your heart has been purged and will remain so – as long as each of us puts forth an effort to make this new life work."

"Thank you, Freya," Morgana whispered, her heart lifting further.

Gwaine smiled at her. "You already know my opinion."

Leon stepped forward slightly. "I think I speak for the others when I say that whatever our king decides, we stand with him," he stated. Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival agreed with him, each silently nodding.

"Arthur?" Merlin prompted.

The king closed his eyes and Morgana witnessed the moment he made his decision. His expression cleared, his shoulders straightened, and his regality shone through. When he opened his eyes, they were piercing straight through Morgana's soul. Her half brother walked up to her and searched her face.

"I have been betrayed time and time again by those I care about," he stated. "The greatest betrayal was Merlin whom I consider my brother in all but name." He paused and Morgana found herself holding her breath again. "If I can forgive my brother, I suppose I can also forgive my sister."

Morgana's heart flew all the way into her throat and tears burst from her eyes. Acting purely on emotion alone, the former witch flung her arms around her brother, finally embracing him for everything he was. Arthur was clearly shocked but after a moment he hugged her back. Pulling away, he held her shoulders tightly.

"Do me a favor," he said, smiling a little.

"Name it," she mumbled, wiping at her eyes.

"Don't ever kill me or anyone I care about ever again."

Morgana let out a watery chuckle. "I think I can do that."

"Great! Now that everyone has made up, let's celebrate!" Gwaine cried, clapping his hands together. "Say, Merlin, you wouldn't happen to have any firewhiskey lying around here, would you?"

[][][]

It was early in the morning, probably around three. The night had mostly been spent reminiscing about the past, everyone sharing their sides of what made up their story. Morgana had spoken freely of her previous actions, regretting every single one. Gwaine kept his arm around her the entire time. Even now, as she sat out on the balcony enjoying the frigid December air, she couldn't help but wonder how on earth she'd ended up with everything she'd always longed for but felt she didn't deserve.

The glass door slid open behind her but Morgana didn't turn around. She wasn't too surprised when Merlin joined her.

"You know, Gwaine might be pretty upset if you end up catching a cold out here."

"I wasn't planning on staying out much longer," she replied, strangely relaxed. This was the first time in eons that she had felt peaceful around this man.

"I just wanted to thank you," Merlin said after a long moment of silence.

Morgana eyed him curiously. "What for?"

"For forgiving me."

Morgana stared. "You're joking right? I'm the one who should be thanking _you_ , Merlin. After everything I've done…"

"I've lived for a long time, Morgana," Merlin sighed, his shoulders sagging a little from the burden. "Let me give you some advice. Don't allow past failures to dictate your emotions. You'll find a whole lot of heartache and grief if you do."

"I take it you speak from your experience of living from the nine hundreds to the twenty first century before returning again to the past?"

Merlin nodded. "I was so lost then. The first thing I learned was that Arthur had died and Albion with him. I felt like such a failure. I couldn't understand why I'd allowed him to die… why I hadn't been there."

"When all along it was my fault," Morgana muttered. "I was the one who locked you in that tree, Merlin. I was the one who killed Gwaine and Arthur… and eventually Albion."

Merlin rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's in the past, Morgana. After Arthur died, I was able to draw comfort knowing that I was promised he would rise again. That time has finally come and I almost feel as if my previous fifteen hundred years don't matter. What matters is _this_ life, the one I'm choosing to live now. You don't want to be defined by your past anymore so stop harboring regret for things you can't change. Move on."

Morgana studied him a moment before smiling. "Thank you, Merlin."

"Anytime," he grinned and Morgana felt as if she was transported back in time to when they had first been friends, a time when they cared about each other. Her smile deepened as she realized the friendship she had with him then had been restored tonight. Gratitude overwhelmed her and she nearly started to cry again. She'd done a lot of that tonight but she didn't mind; her tears were a release and with each drop spilt, she felt her heart lightening.

"We should head back inside," Merlin muttered after a time.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Both of them stood up.

"Merry Christmas, Morgana," Merlin smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Merlin." As he was about to slide open the door, Morgana's grin deepened. "So, when are you going to propose to Freya?"

To her delight, Merlin groaned. "You and your brother! Is this a Pendragon tag-team effort? Because I don't find it a coincidence that both of you have asked me the same question on the same day!"

Morgana's eyes danced. "For once Arthur can see something just as clearly as I can – which is honestly rather remarkable since the man has always had difficulty with observance."

"I think he'd take offense to that."

"Probably but sisters have the right and duty to be offensive to their brothers," she replied cheerfully. "Seriously though, Merlin, anyone can see how in love you two are. Take your own advice. Don't live in the past thinking it's going to repeat. The story you shared tonight of how you and Freya first met, it's tragic what happened, but I don't think it's going to occur again in this lifetime. So stop hiding behind the fear of 'what if' and marry her already before someone else does!"

Merlin sighed, sliding open the glass door without a word. Morgana merely shook her head, the smile still on her face. _No wonder he and Arthur are two sides of the same coin. Both of them are as stubborn as a mule!_

Resolving to make sure he and Freya ended up with a ring, Morgana cheerfully went inside, closing the glass door behind her. Finding Gwaine lounging out on the couch, she crept past the sleeping forms of the knights on the floor and settled next to the man she deeply adored, nestling into his chest. Gwaine wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her hair.

"Welcome back," he muttered.

"You're supposed to be asleep," she chided.

"I was but then you left. Tell me, should I be concerned that you and Merlin were out on the balcony alone?"

Morgana swatted his chest. "Stupidity doesn't become you."

Gwaine chuckled, kissing her hair again. The two settled down and Morgana found her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. Finally, she'd found what she had always truly been searching for: _somewhere to belong._ A genuine smile climbed her face as she drifted off to sleep, the sound of Gwaine's strong and steady heartbeat the perfect lullaby to soothe her soul.

* * *

 **How many of you saw that one coming? :3 Sorry to disappoint anyone who wanted Morgana to be evil again. She's good and she and Gwaine are still a thing! I know there were a lot of people wondering how that would turn out. Well, now you can be even more awesome than you already are and leave a review containing all of your thoughts on the matter. Please?**

 **Oh, and in case anybody has forgotten... not everyone remembers yet! We still have a certain tyrannical king and Court Physician to bring into the picture. And don't worry, the Harry Potter characters have not been forgotten. They're just enjoying their happy Christmas vacation. But they'll be coming in again soon. Action is right around the corner guys, I promise!**

 **Reviews are love!**


	12. Chapter 12

12: Christmas

"Rise and shine!" a familiar shout filled the room as the door was thrust open.

Arthur groaned, tightening his hold on his pillow without any intention of getting up. He was quite comfortable and the last thing he wanted was to leave his bed. He hoped Merlin would get the hint to go away.

"Come on, Arthur, it's Christmas!"

Arthur sighed. No such luck. "Can't Christmas wait for five more minutes?" he grumbled.

"You can't tell me that you don't want to open presents."

That caught his attention. "Presents?" he repeated. "From who?"

"Why don't you get out of bed and find out?" Merlin grinned, twisting around and leaving him alone.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes. "He's like a kid in a candy store," he murmured aloud, "I don't think I've seen him this excited since the first magic festival we held back in Camelot."

Knowing that Merlin would only come back in and pester him if he didn't move, Arthur left the comforts of his bed and pulled a tee shirt down over his plaid pajama pants. The others were already awake when he arrived in the living room, still rubbing sleep out of their eyes. After kissing a slightly disoriented Guinevere, Arthur looked around until he found the clock on the wall.

"Merlin! It's not even eight in the morning!" he complained.

"Nobody sleeps in on Christmas day, Arthur," Merlin retorted, wagging his finger.

"Plenty of people do!" Arthur groused.

"Careful or I might just not give this to you," he threatened, holding out a large wrapped package.

Arthur stilled. "That's for me?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "The label says 'To King Prat'. Unless there's another prat in the room, I think it's safe to say it's yours."

The knights chuckled while Arthur took the nearest pillow and threw it at Merlin's head. Merlin dodged, grinning from ear to ear. Scowling, Arthur sauntered forward and yanked the present from Merlin's hands. Guinevere shook her head in disapproval of his behavior but she did smile when he briefly kissed her again. Sitting down, Arthur held the package in his hands, wondering what it was. He hated admitting it but he hadn't really bought anything for anyone. He hadn't been expecting the company, truth be told. Although, he _had_ bought something for Guinevere; he planned days ago to spend this day with her. The king felt kind of bad. Glancing up, he noticed the others also squirming with slight discomfort.

"Merlin, you really didn't have to," Lancelot mumbled, accepting the package the warlock held out to him.

"I know," Merlin answered, going back to the tree to retrieve another gift which he gave to a rather shocked Morgana, "but I wanted to."

"The only way I can think of you getting all these gifts on such short notice is with your magic," Gwaine suspected, fingering his own present. "I mean, none of us knew we were all going to be together today or else I'm sure we'd have equally prepared."

Merlin's grin was wide as he finished distributing his gifts. "I confess I did use it but I certainly wasn't going to let the holiday go by without unwrapping presents!"

"But what about you, Merlin?" asked Percival. "We didn't get you anything."

"I did," Freya announced, reaching into her pocket to pull out a small present. "It isn't much but…"

Merlin accepted the box with a large grin. "Thank you."

"Right, well, let's all find out what our resident warlock cooked up, shall we?" said Gwaine, already setting to work ripping off his present's paper.

"Eager are we?" Morgana teased, poking him in the side.

Arthur glanced at Guinevere, deciding that now would be a good time to give her his present; he didn't want to make a scene. "Guinevere," he muttered, drawing her attention. He passed her a tiny box tied with a silver bow.

"Arthur," she murmured, surprised but pleased, "you didn't have to."

The king smiled. "Even if you didn't agree to spend the holiday with me I was going to get you something anyway. It's nothing much."

Guinevere opened it first, a small gasp escaping her lips as she pulled out a silver necklace holding a teardrop shaped ruby. "Oh my… is this real?" she asked breathlessly.

"If I said yes would you be upset?"

A weak chuckle escaped her as her eyes sparkled. Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek. "It's lovely, Arthur. Thank you."

"Let me help you put it on," he said eagerly.

"Okay," she consented, moving her hair out of the way, exposing her neck.

Arthur wasted no time taking the necklace and clasping it together. Guinevere let her hair fall and turned back to him. Arthur admired the jewel around her throat and then he kissed her.

"Beautiful," he remarked, pulling away.

Guinevere blushed. She fingered the ruby with a warm smile before turning her attention to Merlin's present. Arthur watched her a moment more, admiring her for everything she was, before doing the same. He glanced up at Merlin who was busy at the moment unwrapping his own gift from Freya. Just what had his best friend given him? Fingering the package, Arthur tore off the paper and opened the lid. Peering inside, his eyes widened in delight and surprise.

Inside the box were several articles. Arthur first pulled out the royal Pendragon seal, the large bronze ring attached to a thick leather cord. Next to it was one of Arthur's rings, a silver band with crisscrossing symbols. Underneath the two rings was a familiar red designer jacket with two gold dragons on the sleeves; the same jacket Merlin had magicked to protect him from modern spells during their trip to the future. The rest of the outfit – boots included! – were also in the box. Arthur pulled all the articles out with a large grin, fingering the clothing with warmth. To his surprise, there was one more thing hidden under the dark leather boots.

"Merlin, what's this?" he asked, pulling out a thick piece of parchment.

Merlin looked over at him, grinning widely. "Oh, that? Why don't you take a look and find out."

Raising one of his golden eyebrows, Arthur unfolded the thick paper and blinked. "It's a map."

"A map? To where?" Gwaine asked curiously, lowering his own magical jacket.

Arthur briefly noticed all of the knights had one, Lancelot included - even though he hadn't been with them on their adventure to the future.

"Merlin?" Arthur prompted.

The warlock shook his head. "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise. You're just have to follow its directions."

Arthur frowned a little as he studied the map displaying the lower land of Britain, a small blue line leading to a large red X. "Do you want me to follow it now?"

"You don't have to," Merlin answered with a shrug. "But when you want to, let me know. You'll need my help getting to the starting location – unless you want to drive for three hours."

Guinevere peered over Arthur's shoulder, studying the map too. Arthur stared at the parchment again, realizing that the first marker was in a remote location somewhere in South Wales, a small village called Bryn.

"What's in Bryn, Merlin?" Guinevere asked before Arthur could.

The warlock shook his head, his eyes twinkling mysteriously. "Sorry Gwen, I'm not giving anything away."

"Well, I'm not at all excited about trekking anywhere in this weather," Arthur muttered, looking out the window at the snowfall. "We'll save this for later."

Merlin shrugged. "Fine by me. So, do you all like your presents?"

"They're wonderful, Merlin, thank you," Percival answered while the others nodded.

Morgana and Gwen had also been given jackets though theirs were more feminine in design. He'd given Freya a jacket too but hers was blue, the dragon on the side silver instead of gold. The implication was clear, seeing as Merlin's Court Sorcerer cape had been blue with a silver dragon embroidered into the shoulders. He'd also given her a necklace containing a small vial filled with water from the Lake of Avalon – a piece of home she could carry around with her.

She had given him a hand-stitched neckerchief, blue with two lines of thick red stitches on the sides. She'd made it herself and he wasted no time putting it around his neck and kissing her in thanks.

"Were these made with magic, Merlin?" Guinevere asked, putting her jacket on. Arthur had to give it to him; Merlin had a good eye for fashion.

"Yep," the warlock answered, grinning widely. He briefly explained the shield charms that would protect them against enemy spells as well as the distress call linked with the dragons embroidered on the sides. "Even though we didn't have to use them last time, I'm not taking any chances. And before you ask, yes Arthur, I still have mine and it's spelled to alert you if I'm ever in trouble."

Arthur closed his mouth. He had indeed been about to ask that very question. Cheeky idiot. "Good," he huffed, folding his arms. "Because the last thing we want is you getting into trouble with no way out of it."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm more concerned about trouble finding you since it's drawn to you like a magnet."

The others laughed and Arthur soon joined them – after he threw another pillow at Merlin's head. The morning was then spent making up breakfast, chatting, and watching a few Christmas specials on television. About halfway through Miracle on Thirty Fourth Street, however, Merlin started producing magic at Gwaine's insistence and soon everyone was requesting their own things for him to create. It was as he made snow magically fall from the ceiling – disappearing before it hit the carpet – that someone knocked on Arthur's door.

"Who could that be?" the king muttered, pushing himself out of the cozy position he'd been in with Guinevere.

Wandering down the hall, he contemplated who on Earth would want to bother him on such an important holiday. Having half a mind to tell whoever it was to go home and spend the day with their loved ones, Arthur wrenched the door open. His jaw hit the floor.

"Arthur."

"Father?! What are you doing here?"

Uther Head pushed his way into the flat, his stride one of great importance. Arthur barely managed to acknowledge that Gaius was with him, his famous frown plastered on his wizened face.

"Since you were unable to come home I decided to surprise you," Uther answered.

"Well, I am surprised," Arthur muttered.

Uther wandered towards the living room and Arthur silently prayed Merlin had the sense enough to stop his little magic show.

"Sorry for the short notice, Arthur," said Gaius quietly. "He was very insistent."

"Why?" Arthur wondered. His father had never gone out of his way to visit in the past.

"Arthur," said Gaius gravely, "your father –"

"Arthur, who are all of these people? I thought you were burdened with school work."

Arthur cringed. Great, just what he needed, a fight with his father on Christmas day. Uther stood with his hands on his hips, anger clearly written all over his face. Merlin stood with confidence though worry was clear in his eyes as he hid Freya behind him. Gwaine had placed his arm around Morgana, the former witch appearing to be fighting the impulse to strangle the uninvited new comer. Guinevere and the rest of the knights were solemn and tense, looking to Arthur for further instruction.

Arthur squared his shoulders. "Father, these are my friends."

"I don't care if they're your friends," Uther spat, rounding on him. "What are they doing _here?"_

Arthur scowled. The young twenty four year old part of him felt inclined to cower under his father's intensity but the king within would not allow it. He did not have to stand for this! He was the legendary King Arthur. He had withstood countless foes, defeated armies, united the five kingdoms, established Albion, and ruled his people with justice and equality for decades. He was a much better man and king than his father had ever been and, though he loved him, he was not going to let Uther push him around anymore.

"I invited them over," Arthur answered. "I felt it no crime to desire to spend the holidays in good company."

Uther's eyes flashed. "So you can't come home for the holiday but you have enough time for _these_ people?"

"I _made_ time, Father," Arthur answered fearlessly.

Uther's rage was paramount. "This party is over!" he shouted. "Out! All of you!"

"No."

Uther whirled around. "Excuse me?"

Merlin's stance was firm as he folded his arms and sent the former King of Camelot one of his deepest glares. "I said, no."

"How dare you! I have every right to throw you out seeing as I am the one paying for my foolish son to live here!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "And after everything _you've_ done I have every right to turn you into a festival pig."

"Merlin," Arthur cautioned.

The warlock raised a comforting hand. "It's alright, Arthur. I'm tired of hiding. He's going to remember everything again anyway."

There was a rustling behind Arthur as Gaius shuffled forward. His old eyes widened when they landed on Merlin. "My boy," he breathed. And then he fainted.

Arthur caught him immediately. Uther looked from Gaius to Merlin and back again. Something stirred within his eyes and the former king's knees buckled. Percival, being the closest, managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

"Nicely done," Elyan complimented as the silent giant settled Uther onto the loveseat Guinevere had just vacated.

Arthur placed Gaius in the Lazyboy before running a hand through his hair. "Well, that went well," he sighed.

"I should go," Morgana muttered, standing up. "I'd rather not be here when he wakes. I may have made peace with all of you but I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive Uther."

Gwaine took her hand. "We can go to my place. It's just next door. That way we'll be close if needed."

Morgana seemed a little reluctant but gave in after a nod from Arthur. "Alright. But I'm _not_ talking to him. He's dead to me and I don't want to change that."

And without another word she headed for the door, Gwaine following after her. But just when they made it to the hall, an explosion shook the ground. There was a mad scramble as everyone tried to stay on their feet.

"What in the world?!" Arthur shouted.

Ironically Merlin was the first to regain his balance. The Court Sorcerer ran to the balcony, throwing open the sliding glass door. Arthur and the others joined him just as he let out a colorful expletive. Arthur didn't blame him. Across the River Thames black smoke billowed into the air, distinct in the light snow still falling from the sky. The famous Clock Tower was on fire, a large chunk missing from its top, almost as if something had taken a bite out of it.

"Death Eaters?" Arthur guessed.

Merlin nodded. "They've gone too far this time," he snarled, his hands shaking as he surveyed the damage.

"How could they?" Freya muttered. "It's Christmas!"

"They don't care!" Merlin growled. "They're motivated by hatred. Anything they can do to torment and kill muggles they'll execute without a second thought."

Arthur rested his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Go, Merlin. The Order and the Ministry might take a while to get there. Go and do what you can. We'll handle things here."

"Are you sure?" Merlin worried, glancing at Uther and Gaius.

"I can handle my father. _Go!"_

He sent Merlin a reassuring nod and the warlock returned it before his eyes flashed gold, a wind carrying him away. Arthur left the balcony and turned on the television, flipping to the news. The others joined him.

"Reports are streaming in that the beloved Clock Tower, also known as Big Ben, has just been attacked by terrorists," the female reporter was saying. "We are trying to get a connection with our crew on the sight but we're experiencing technical difficulties."

Arthur snorted. "Of course they are. There's no way Merlin or the Ministry of Magic would allow the news to record a magic fight for the world to see."

"Do you think they'll have it sorted soon?" Freya asked.

Leon put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's Merlin. He'll stop the fight and fix the damages in no time."

"I hope he doesn't completely fix everything," said Arthur. "People may not be able to explain it but even from here we can see the damage. If the tower were to be perfectly restored in less than an hour it would definitely raise suspicion."

"Well then, let's hope Merlin remembers that," muttered Gwaine.

Arthur glanced back towards the balcony, biting his lip. He had a bad feeling. A minute passed and the feeling hadn't gone away. It had intensified. Something wasn't right. He couldn't explain it but his stomach was in knots. Without thinking, he stood up, grabbed the clothes Merlin had given him, and rushed into his room. It took him two minutes to completely change, ignoring the insistent knocks on his door.

Guinevere finally decided to just come in, throwing privacy out the window. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded as Arthur finished tightening his belt.

"I'm going after him," he replied, pushing past her.

"Arthur!"

He twisted around. "Something's wrong, Guinevere. I have to go." He pushed past the bewildered knights. "All of you stay here until I get back."

To his shock, Freya was waiting at the door. Her dark eyes blazed with both worry and determination. "Don't even try to stop me," she warned. "I'm coming with you."

Arthur frowned. He didn't have time to argue. "Fine," he muttered. "I'd tell you to stay but something tells me you're just as bad as he is when it comes to following orders."

Freya managed a small smile. "And you'd be right."

The two of them practically ran down to the parking garage. Seconds later Arthur was peeling the Corvette out of its stall and down the street at dangerous speeds, praying the whole way that his anxiety was for nothing.

[][][]

Merlin had transported to the base of the tower, wasting no time with casting a spell to render all technology worthless within a five mile radius. The damage done to the Clock Tower was not as bad as he feared. A single hole near the top had caused the majestic point's destruction but it could easily be restored through muggle means. The flames just starting inside could be taken care of with magical help. The Palace of Westminster was another concern, however, seeing as that was the current building receiving abuse from the Death Eaters.

With a quick wave of his hand, the flames within the Clock Tower disappeared. Satisfied with his work, the warlock set off at a run towards the palace. Racing inside he found the glass windows exploding all around him. It didn't take long to find the source of the chaos. Six Death Eaters were languishing within a large room, flicking their wands around lazily, almost as if they were bored. Merlin skidded to a halt just as someone started clapping behind him. He whirled around. Standing tall, almost with a sense of regality, was Rodolphus Lestrange. His long black hair was pulled away from his face, his dark eyes dancing with wicked pleasure as he surveyed the warlock with a twisted smile.

"Not even five minutes," he praised, ceasing in his applause. "I am impressed, Merlin."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Rodolphus Lestrange. It's been a while."

The man raised an eyebrow. "A month is hardly long, Merlin, but so much can happen in so short a time."

"Apparently, seeing as the last time we met you were cowering on the ground," Merlin jibed. "Tell me, what therapy did you have to endure in order to gain such a backbone?"

Lestrange's handsome face curled into a wicked snarl, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I do not have to answer to the likes of you! You, who are a traitor to your kind!"

"How am I the traitor when it is you carrying on the work of a madman, destroying both magical and nonmagical communities alike?"

"The Dark Lord's vision is one the likes of you will never understand!" Rodolphus snapped while his fellow Death Eaters converged around them, all pointing their wands at Merlin. "Muggles are meant to be ruled, Merlin! Yet you believe the lesser life forms deserve to be on equal standing with us, their superiors! Why do you think Camelot fell? Because you failed to see that you were meant to rule over King Arthur!"

Merlin recoiled over such a thought. "I would never even think about ruling over Arthur!"

Rodolphus snorted, picking at one of his fingernails. "Pitiful. With that outlook it's no wonder your kingdom failed."

"It was never my kingdom to begin with!" Merlin snarled. "Albion belongs to Arthur. He's the king, not me!"

"Merlin, you are misguided. Your vision is clouded by the weakness of love. Those with magic were given the gift for a reason. We are the true rulers of this world. Why should we fear muggles when we have been given the power to reign over them? They were right to fear us in the past and they will learn to fear us again. The Time of Magic will be restored and we will take our rightful place at the head of this world. That is what the Dark Lord taught us and we will carry on his legacy, removing any threat who dares to prevent it from coming to pass."

It happened before Merlin could even sense it coming. Two of the Death Eaters had snuck up on him from behind, one yanking his wrists behind his back while the other snapped a pair of metal cuffs over his skin. Merlin couldn't stop the scream from escaping his throat as his magic was severed, blocked beneath his skin by the rune cuffs he was now shackled in. He fell to his knees.

"Recognize them?" Rodolphus gloated. "These are the same cuffs you used to contain me. The fools from the Ministry removed them when they came to cart me off to Azkaban. Strangely enough, that became my salvation. My magic was released all at once, flowing freely out of my body in a way I didn't think possible. When it ceased, the Aurors were unconscious at my feet. I took the cuffs and the key for safe keeping, making my escape. Now it is my pleasure to return them to you."

Several popping noises started ringing throughout the room, signifying the arrival of the Aurors and possibly members of the Order of the Phoenix. Someone shouted his name but before Merlin could respond, Rodolphus grabbed his arm and disapparated, pulling the warlock with him into a tiny tube of darkness. His magic suppressed, Merlin found he was quickly losing his strength. The last thought that came to him before losing consciousness in the tiny space of apparation was one of worry for his king.

 _Arthur…_

* * *

 **And now the drama begins! I hope you guys don't hate me... please review! It encourages me to post faster.**


	13. Chapter 13

13: The King and the Minister

Arthur leapt out of the Corvette without even bothering to turn it off, Freya right on his heels. The area was in complete chaos as the few gathered onlookers were running about in a panic while men and women in cloaks waved their wands, casting countless memory charms on them. Arthur caught sight of a woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"Tonks!" he shouted, running forward with Freya right behind him. The woman in question whirled around, her wand at the ready. "Wow! Easy!" Arthur cried, throwing up his hands.

"Arthur!" she shouted in surprise, her eyes widening comically.

"Where is he?" Arthur asked desperately.

"You're back! You're here!" she gasped.

Arthur seized her robes. "Where is Merlin, Tonks?!"

"What is going on here?" another Auror demanded, appearing at Tonks' side.

Arthur ignored the man. "Tell me where he is. Where is Merlin?!"

"Young man, remove yourself before I make you," the Auror warned.

Tonks waved the man off. "Relax Evans, this is King Arthur."

"King –?"

"Tonks, answer me!" Arthur snapped.

The woman's expression clouded over, anguish written all over her face. "I'm sorry, Arthur… they took him."

Arthur's hands dropped numbly to his sides. "What?" he whispered.

"We arrived just as Rodolphus Lestrange and five other Death Eaters were disapparating. Rodolphus had Merlin. His hands were behind his back. I think he was handcuffed."

Freya let out a strangled gasp, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. "No," she muttered. "Oh, please, no."

Arthur felt like he'd been hit by a train head-on. "Is there any way to trace where they might have gone?" he asked desperately.

Tonks was reluctant to answer. "…no…" she said at last. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I don't know where they took him. We've been searching for their hideout for weeks but we haven't –"

Arthur held up a hand, silencing her. His expression was clouded, his thoughts in a similar state. Merlin was gone. He'd just barely had his memories restored and his Court Sorcerer had been taken away with no means to get him back. This wasn't like the past. There were no trails to follow, no footprints. The world was bigger, the possible hideouts of the Death Eaters infinite. Hopelessness started to crawl into his heart and just when he was about to scream in frustration, a soft hand touched his shoulder. Arthur looked up.

Freya's large brown eyes, though thick with tears, contained an inner fire. "Don't you dare give up on him now, Arthur Pendragon," she whispered. "Merlin is immortal but he will suffer immensely if we do not do everything we can to find him. They said he'd been handcuffed. The only cuffs I know of that can stop Merlin are those embedded with magic. And Merlin –"

"– is magic itself," Arthur interrupted, his brow creasing as he considered the complication.

Freya nodded. "Suppressing Merlin's magic with rune cuffs is the same as suppressing oxygen from one's lungs. You can still live but you'll never feel like you're getting what you need, tortured with the knowledge that it's there but just out of reach."

"And who knows what else the Death Eaters will do to him while he's like that!" Arthur whispered, horrified.

He couldn't allow himself to wallow in despair. Time was precious and though Merlin couldn't die, he could still be damaged in ways that would leave him worse than dead. Arthur was not about to sit back and allow that to happen. Determination swelled within his breast and the Once and Future King emerged.

Turning to Tonks, Arthur's inner fire spurred him forward. "Thank you for telling me what happened, Tonks," he said.

The young Auror looked exhausted, deep bags under her eyes. It wasn't until this moment that Arthur remembered it hadn't even been two months since she'd lost her husband. She was still suffering from that loss but it hadn't stopped her from living. She was a strong individual.

"I'm truly sorry we weren't able to get to him, Arthur." She continued to beat herself up while her coworker, Evans, stood observing the scene with a slight frown.

Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. Tonks met his gaze. "It's alright," he assured. "Let's focus on getting him back. I request an audience with your Minister, if that's alright. If I'm going to get my fool of a Court Sorcerer back, I'm going to need all the magical help I can get."

Tonks's face lifted with a smile. "I think that can be arranged. I'm sure Kingsley can clear his schedule to meet with a king."

"The Once and Future King," Arthur amended.

Tonks laughed, rolling her eyes. "I can see why Merlin always insulted you. Clearly you need someone to keep your head from swelling."

Arthur chuckled.

"Excuse me," Evans interrupted hesitantly. Arthur turned to him. "Are you…?"

"King Arthur? Yes."

Evans' mouth dropped open as his expression filled with awe. Arthur frowned. He'd almost forgotten the adoration people of this time period gave him during his brief venture into the future. Deciding to take it in stride – he was a king after all – Arthur turned back to Tonks.

"There is a matter I must attend to back at my flat or else I'd request to come to the Ministry immediately. Would it be possible to arrange a meeting in about an hour?"

Tonks blinked. "Er – you have a flat?"

Arthur smirked humorously. "I was _reborn_ , Tonks. Before my memories returned I believed I was nothing more than a regular student taking law classes."

"Oh." -Her eyes lit with amusement- "I'm sure Merlin wasn't expecting to find a college student when he went looking for you a week ago."

Arthur shrugged. "I wasn't expecting to find out I was King Arthur either. Anyway, can you meet me at my flat in an hour?"

"Sure just give me the address," she said.

Arthur paused. Oops… he'd forgotten he didn't know it. Lucky for him, Freya came to the rescue, having remembered it from when she'd asked Merlin for it earlier. Fishing a piece of paper from her pocket, she quickly wrote it down and passed the note to Tonks.

"Thanks," Tonks muttered, eyeing Freya curiously. "And just who are you, if you don't mind me asking."

Freya smiled. "I'm Merlin's girlfriend. Come on, Arthur, we need to get back to the others. See you in an hour."

Ignoring the completely shocked witch and wizard, Arthur allowed Freya to drag him back to the car.

[][][]

The others did not take the news of Merlin's disappearance well. Gwaine's reaction was the worst; he'd punched a hole in the wall. Arthur would have demanded him to pay for the damage but he was just as frustrated; if he hadn't had Guinevere in his arms, he would have punched a hole of his own. Morgana sat as still as a statue, her fingers laced together so tightly that her knuckles turned a ghastly white; she and Gwaine had decided to stick around despite trying to leave earlier.

"Oh, Arthur, what are we going to do?" Guinevere breathed into his shoulder.

Arthur pulled away, shaking his head. "I may not know where they've taken him but my plan is to work with the Ministry of Magic to get him back. I met with Tonks just now. She'll be here in an hour to take me to the Ministry."

"We're going with you," Gwaine stated immediately.

"What about my father and Gaius?" Arthur pointed out. "Someone has to stay behind to explain things to them. We can't allow them to wake in a strange world on their own."

"I can stay with them, Sire," Leon offered though he did so reluctantly; he was just as eager as the others to help rescue Merlin. "Once things are explained, perhaps they will allow me to join you again."

Arthur frowned. He didn't want to leave without Leon but he understood the wisdom in it. Leon was a familiar face, the most familiar besides himself and Morgana – not that she would ever volunteer to stay behind and help Uther adjust to a reincarnated life.

"Very well," he muttered, "but Leon, do everything you can to keep my father here. I don't want him running through modern day England trying to regain his crown when it doesn't exist anymore."

Morgana snorted. "I can just see him doing something like that."

Arthur turned his gaze on his half sister. "And what are you going to do, Morgana? No offense but I don't think the Ministry would be all too keen having a former Priestess of the Old Religion wandering about."

Morgana frowned. "I want to help," she admitted, "but I can see your point. Go and meet with the Minister. I'll stay at Gwaine's. But I expect to be kept in the loop of what is going on."

Arthur nodded. "Don't worry, we'll come back here after we're done meeting with Kingsley."

The next half hour was spent getting ready to go. Arthur preferred to be dressed in his armor but the modern clothes Merlin had given would have to suffice. He and the others were going to be standing out anyway since everyone at the Ministry was sure to be dressed in wizard robes. To distinguish himself further, Arthur removed the royal seal from the leather cord and slipped it onto the middle finger of his right hand.

"What I wouldn't give for my sword," he muttered, wishing for another factor of his identity.

"I think we all feel that way, Sire," Elyan sighed.

"I might be able to help out with that," Gwaine suddenly grinned, standing up.

Arthur sent him a quizzical brow. "You can't seriously have swords in your flat?"

Gwaine winked. "I'll be back in a moment." Five minutes later the knight returned with six fine blades. Placing them on the coffee table he happily shrugged, "Everyone has hobbies."

"And yours is sword collecting?" Morgana questioned while the other knights converged to admire the steelwork.

"These are fantastically crafted for modern weaponry," Elyan commented; being a former blacksmith his opinion was heavily weighted.

"Of course they are," Gwaine huffed, pretending to be offended. "I wouldn't settle for junk." He picked up a blade with a black hilt and held it out to the king. "This one is the best I have, Arthur."

Arthur took the sword and hefted it in his hand. The balance was sound and the familiarity of steel in his grasp put him at ease. It wasn't Excalibur but it provided similar comfort. "Thank you Gwaine," he muttered, slipping the sword against his hip.

There was a knock on the door. Morgana slinked off, deciding it was best not to be caught by the Ministry at present. Gwaine gave her a short kiss before she disappeared into Arthur's room where she would stay until the others had left. Arthur answered the door after making sure she was properly concealed. Tonks and another man, dressed in red robes and sporting a long ponytail, greeted him.

"Hi Arthur," said Tonks. "This is Frank Williamson. He's another Auror."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur replied, "come in."

"He has a sword," Williamson muttered to Tonks.

"He's King Arthur, Frank, of course he's going to have a sword," she answered unconcernedly.

Arthur grinned. There was a round of greeting as Tonks was reunited with the Knights and Guinevere, her surprise being the greatest at seeing Elyan. "The Weasleys will be happy to see you again," she smiled after giving him a hug. "Fred said he even wanted to name his first son after you."

Elyan was sheepish but gracious as he replied, "I only did what I knew was right. I'm sure he would have done the same for me."

"No doubt," Tonks agreed. She then noticed Lancelot. "Hello there. I'm afraid I don't recognize you from this lot."

"Sir Lancelot," he introduced, taking her hand and kissing it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Tonks's eyes widened. "Sir Lancelot?"

"Remember what we told you before," Arthur reminded when he caught her glancing from Lancelot to Guinevere.

Tonks nodded, her face betraying nothing. "Of course. It's nice to meet you."

Lancelot inclined his head gratefully. It was obvious his reputation bothered him. Morgana had apologized many times the night before for the whole matter of making him into a Shade. Lancelot forgave her, naturally, but it was going to take a lot to change peoples' opinions of the incorrect legend. Arthur wasn't looking forward to having the general populace misjudge two of the most important people in his life. Just thinking about it caused his grip to tighten on the handle of his sword.

Tonks startled him from his thoughts by clapping her hands together. "Right, shall we be off?"

"Um, just how exactly are we getting there?" asked Arthur.

"Well, since none of you can use magic, we figured using the visitor's entrance," she answered. "It's a telephone box in the heart of the city; shouldn't take us too long to get there. Since you said you were reincarnated I take it you know how to drive? Williamson nearly got us killed on the way here."

"If _you_ had been driving we _definitely_ would have died," Williamson groused, pouting.

Arthur smirked. "I'd be happy to drive us, though I'm not so sure we'll all fit in one car."

"Don't underestimate magic, little king," Tonks tsked, waving her finger.

Gwaine's eyes sparkled from the insult as he guessed, "The car is going to be like that tent Hermione had, isn't it? Bigger on the inside but normal on the outside?"

Tonks's grin was wide. "Exactly."

"Figures," Arthur muttered. He should have remembered that. "Well, let's go then."

He stopped to briefly brush his lips against his father's forehead. He straightened and turned to Leon. "Inform me when he wakes. Even if I won't get the message until later, I'd like to know before I return that he's conscious."

Leon inclined his head. "I'll watch over him, Sire."

Arthur smiled gratefully before taking Guinevere's hand and heading for the door. Tonks eyed Uther's unconscious form curiously but didn't ask any questions. She and Williamson led the way down to a dark green, old-fashioned car parked on the side of the road. Even though it was snowing there wasn't a shred of white on the dark metal surface. Arthur grew suspicious of some impervious-to-weather spell.

Williamson passed him the keys and the king got in the driver's side after removing his sword. To his surprise the front seat stretched from one end of the car to the next, being long enough to fit at least six people in the front. Guinevere slipped into the spot next to him, Williamson and Tonks following after. Freya and the knights all got in the back; surprisingly there was even enough leg room for Percival's long limbs.

Arthur made sure everyone was settled and secure before starting the car and slipping out into traffic. Tonks made several comments on how shocked she was towards seeing an ancient king drive a modern day vehicle. Ignoring the snickering in the backseat, Arthur asked for directions which Williamson gladly gave. Soon they reached a street with rather worn out office buildings, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. A red telephone box sat on the corner. Williamson instructed Arthur to pull over near the box and everyone stepped out into the frigid December air. The king had to admit, he wasn't that impressed with the location.

"Well, even though it's Christmas you'll find that the Ministry is going to be rather crowded," Tonks confessed as the group made their way towards the telephone box. "Word got out that you were coming."

Arthur raised a curious brow. "And how did that happen?"

"Evans," Tonks sighed. "He was so excited that he went and blabbed to every person he could find. So, naturally, there are hundreds of skeptical ministry workers and reporters waiting to see you."

"Too bad Merlin isn't here," Arthur mumbled, depressed. He wasn't at all excited about meeting the magical community without his warlock.

Guinevere squeezed his hand. "Remember that time when he had to go and visit the distant druid camps in the west?"

"Yes," Arthur grumbled, "he was gone for three weeks, leaving me to deal with a group of very angry magical lords."

"You managed to hold your own without him then," she smiled. "I'm sure you can handle this too."

Arthur sent her a grateful smile before kissing her cheek. "Stay with me," he whispered.

"Always," she muttered.

The two of them entered the telephone box after Williamson and Tonks; the box had also somehow managed to expand in size so the knights and Freya could join them.

"Right," Tonks muttered, "do you remember what the code is Williamson?"

The man reached over to the phone and picked up the receiver. Arthur watched as he dial six, two, four, another four, and another two. The king couldn't help but smirk. The numbers together spelled out the word 'magic'. As the dial swirled back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, causing them all to jump; it sounded as if the woman was in the box with them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Frank Williamson and Nymphadora Tonks, Auror Department, here to escort King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Freya, and the Knights of the Round Table to meet the Minister of Magic," Williamson stated.

"Thank you," said the cool female voice, "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Several badges shot out of the metal chute where return coins usually appeared. Williamson took them out but hesitated. Arthur's scowl was clear. He wasn't going to wear the badge; he didn't need a little nametag to define who he was! The others didn't appear too keen about wearing them either. Williamson shrugged before slipping the unused badges into a pocket of his robes.

"Visitors to the Ministry," the cool female voice was back, "you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

Arthur snorted while the knights chuckled. "Present wands indeed," he whispered, "how about swords?"

Tonks sent him a huge grin. The floor of the telephone box shuddered and Gwaine grabbed onto the glass wall to steady himself as they slowly started sinking under the ground.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "An underground facility?"

"What do you expect?" Tonks shrugged. "We can't very well have our headquarters where muggles can accidentally walk in."

Soon the group was shroud in darkness and Arthur was silently finding himself thankful that he wasn't claustrophobic. The grinding noise of the telephone box was the only indication that they were still moving. After about a minute, golden light illuminated their feet and climbed all the way up into their eyes. Arthur blinked a few times to readjust to the sudden onslaught.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a Merry Christmas," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box sprang open and the group stepped out of it, very grateful to be free from the confined space. Arthur's eyes widened in appreciation as he took in his first view of the hidden facility.

The hall was long, splendid, and accented with a polished dark wooden floor. The ceiling was a peacock-blue, inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that constantly moved and changed in shape and size. Many gilded fireplaces lined the dark wooden walls though there were no fires roaring within them; Arthur vaguely remembered Merlin telling them about witches and wizards traveling through fire – the Floo Network, he'd called it. Halfway down the hall was a large reflective pool, a round slab of stone in the center making Arthur wonder if a recently removed statue had been there. Large golden gates were in the distance where many people had gathered, clearly waiting for them. Arthur noticed several holding paper pads and cameras.

"Great," he groaned quietly to Guinevere, "paparazzi."

The queen lightly frowned. "This was something we didn't have to face back in our day."

"Don't worry, princess," Gwaine cheered, "it's just glorified town gossip; there'll just be pictures to match the words this time."

"Gee, that's really comforting, Gwaine," Arthur scowled.

"I do what I can," the knight shrugged.

Observing the large crowd, Arthur had a sudden thought and stopped moving. The knights halted as well. Tonks and Williamson had gone several paces ahead before realizing they weren't being followed. Tonks doubled back. "What's the hold up?"

Arthur turned to Percival. "Percival, the other night, Merlin and I had a very serious discussion and I think he would agree with me bringing this up now. I wanted to ask you to be Freya's personal bodyguard."

"What?" Freya gasped while Percival, though surprised, didn't object.

Arthur looked at Freya apologetically. "He wanted to run it by you first but seeing as he's not here, I'm making the decision on my own. I know he wants you to be safe and frankly so do I. Will you accept the protection?"

Freya's eyes were wide. She was clearly uncomfortable as she bit her lip, looking up at the gentle giant. "Merlin would ask the same thing of me," she muttered. Her shoulders set and she gave a slight nod of self-reassurance. "Alright, but only if Sir Percival is okay with it."

Percival took Freya's hand and kissed her knuckles. "I will gladly give my services and my life to protect you, my lady."

Freya blushed. "Thank you, kind sir."

Arthur nodded to himself. Even if he didn't know where Merlin was, he was going to do everything in his power to take care of the things and people the warlock cherished – himself included.

"Keep her safe from this mob, Percival," he muttered before taking up the procession again.

Tonks glanced at him with approval, leading the group along. Williamson took up the rear and as they drew closer, the crowd of curious witches and wizards were forced back by Auror members. Arthur ignored the shouted questions thrown at him from all directions, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead with a firm grip on his wife's hand. Tonks led them to a golden elevator and it was only until after the doors clanged shut with the cart moving that Arthur dared release the breath he'd been holding from his lungs.

"Nicely handled," Tonks praised, eyeing him with amusement. "I take it you've never had to deal with such publicity before?"

Arthur snorted. "We had to deal with it plenty – we're just not used to cameras and reporters. That is one part of the future I don't think I'm rather fond of."

The ride to level one took longer than Arthur cared for; for some stupid reason the lift felt it had to stop at each floor and announce a department even though nobody got in or out. Sure there were people on each level but none of them made an attempt to get on with Tonks and Williamson sending them warning glares. Arthur's fingers drummed against his thigh. Guinevere, sensing his distress, squeezed his hand again and kissed his cheek.

"Just breathe," she whispered so quietly only he could hear.

Arthur nodded discreetly, clenching his teeth. Finally the elevator voice announced level one, the golden grill sliding open with a crash. Plush purple carpet covered the floor of a rather grand-looking hall. Several gleaming mahogany doors displayed little golden plaques covered with titles and names. Tonks and Williamson walked down to the door at the end of the hall labeled: Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Tonks knocked once before the door swung open on its own. Arthur walked inside without invitation, Guinevere on his arm.

The office was large, the carpet the same plush purple, the furniture made of identical wood as the door. A large desk sat on the far side of the room covered in various stacks of colored parchment and quills. A round coffee table surrounded by two couches and a couple of chairs occupied the middle of the grand space and another table on the other side of the room housed various plaques and keepsakes. An ornate mirror hung from one wall above a magnificent fireplace while a picture of a rather ugly looking man – currently picking his nose – hung near the large desk. The minister himself was seated behind the writing table, scribbling away on a piece of parchment, though he stopped immediately when Arthur and Guinevere walked in.

"King Arthur," he greeted, standing up to present the royal couple with a bow, "and Queen Guinevere, it is an honor to see you again, Your Majesties."

Arthur smiled warmly. "It's nice to see you too, Kingsley."

The minister appraised him a moment before hesitantly asking, "Forgive me, but, you seem to be younger than I remember you."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, last time we met I was around thirty years old, if I remember correctly. I'm twenty four in this life time. Don't let that fool you though. I have the mind of a forty seven year old sovereign."

Kingsley laughed. "So you were reborn just as Merlin said." He sobered immediately. "I was very disturbed to hear what happened to him."

"That's why I'm here," Arthur stated, following Kingsley who had gestured towards the couches.

While the knights took up various stations around the room, Arthur and Guinevere sat down across from Kingsley at the coffee table. The minister noticed Lancelot and sent Arthur a questioning glance. The king grinned.

"Kingsley, this is Lancelot," he introduced.

Upon being addressed, Lancelot inclined his head respectfully. "Sir," he greeted, "it is an honor."

"It's nice to meet you, Sir Lancelot," Kingsley replied sincerely. "I apologize for growing up believing the legends concerning you and the queen. King Arthur and Merlin made sure that all of us knew of your loyalty."

Lancelot's eyes were a little sad but also grateful. "I am indebted to them both and to you, sir, for accepting their kind words on my behalf."

Kingsley nodded. "Where is Sir Leon?"

"He's with my father," Arthur answered.

"Your father?!" Tonks shouted, causing them all to jump. "That man back in your flat is _Uther Pendragon?"_

Arthur sighed, nodding. "Yes and he's currently receiving all of his previous memories."

"Why would Merlin bring him back?" Kingsley wondered, troubled. "Forgive me, Sire, but your father is not someone I'm rather fond of meeting."

"No offense taken," Arthur assured, "and Merlin didn't bring him back. The Old Religion did. I too am rather worried about how he is going to react to everything that is going on. I suspect both he and my mother were reborn only for the purpose of bringing me into the world. Oddly enough my mother died in childbirth this time too."

"And what caused Uther's death before?" Kingsley asked delicately.

"Technically it was Morgana," answered Guinevere. "She broke his spirit through betrayal and later used black magic to kill him when Merlin tried to heal him from a mortal blow."

"But I don't think the same thing will happen this time," Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I promise you this, I will not let him start another Purge. Even if that means I have to keep him under house arrest at Hogwarts for the rest of his life. I'm sure he'll find the house elves cheerful."

"Arthur," Guinevere lightly chastened his flippancy. "This is serious."

"I know, my love, but you can't deny it would be interesting to see how he copes in a magical Camelot," Arthur grinned.

Guinevere tried and failed to hide her amusement. "Yes, well, we'll worry about your father later. For now we need to focus on finding Merlin."

"You're right," Arthur muttered, sobering immediately. "Kingsley, Tonks told us that you don't currently know where the Death Eaters are hiding?"

"That's correct," Kingsley regretfully stated. "We've got the entire Auror department working to catch them -along with the Order- but so far there haven't been any leads."

"Nothing?" Arthur prompted, "Nothing at all?"

Kingsley's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"What about the attacks? Are they sporadic or is there a pattern to them?" Guinevere asked.

"Yes! What about that?"Arthur cried, praising his wife's ingenuity.

"We haven't really kept track of them," Kingsley admitted. "Things have been so hectic around here; we've undergone a serious change in staff and I've spent most of my time trying to clear the clutter Voldemort and his followers left behind. I've delegated the entire Auror department to be in charge of rounding up the Death Eaters but the division is currently without a leader; it used to be Gawain Robards but he was murdered and replaced by one of the Death Eaters shortly after Voldemort took over. I have been considering several candidates for the position but I have yet to decide who is best for the job."

Arthur nodded, understanding what Kingsley was up against; when he'd reorganized the five kingdoms under his rule it had taken almost a year to draw up successful plans. Kingsley, the poor fellow, had only ascended to his position about a month ago. Even so, Arthur couldn't deny he was disappointed that the Aurors hadn't been keeping track of the attacks. Surely someone would have! Merlin would have…

Arthur shook his head; he didn't have time for despair. Come on, think! There had to be someone… and then it clicked. A small smile climbed his face.

"Minister, have you been in touch with Harry Potter recently?"

Kingsley was thrown off by the question. "Sire?"

"Harry," Arthur repeated. "If there's a man who would have kept tabs on all the attacks from Voldemort's followers, it would be him."

Kingsley blinked. "I haven't thought to ask him."

"Why not?"

"Harry is still young, Arthur," Kingsley defended. "He isn't ready to be involved in such things just yet. He isn't an Auror."

Arthur stared at him. "You can't be serious? Harry is _more_ than qualified to join your warriors! I would have made him a knight if he'd been born in my time. Besides, he defeated Voldemort and proved his capability time and time again dealing with dark wizards twice his age. I fear you are doing both him and yourself a disservice by not giving him a position in your ranks, minister. I would bet half my kingdom that he has been tracking the Death Eaters explicitly since Voldemort's defeat."

"But Harry hasn't finished school," Kingsley argued stubbornly.

Arthur's scowl was deep at this point. "A man should not be judged by education alone, minister. I learned long ago that many qualities make up great men. All of the knights you see in this room earned their titles not because of birth or education but because of valor, honor, strength, and loyalty. I believe Harry should not return to Hogwarts to finish his education. The man has enough life experience to make up for the measly amount of instruction he could gain from a few more months in school."

Kingsley considered him a great deal. "You are not the same man I met a month ago," he finally muttered.

"You're right," Arthur admitted. "I have a few more years and wisdom under my belt now."

"I can tell," Kingsley grinned. "You are the true man behind the legend. The younger version of yourself I first met only held glimpses of who you are now." He paused. "I will do as you suggest and offer Harry a position as an Auror."

"You may also want to enlist Ron and Hermione," Arthur recommended. "I daresay they are just as valuable as Harry is."

"Would you have made Hermione a knight?" Kingsley wondered, curious.

"Without question," Arthur answered, "though she might have done better as a member of my council. The woman is still one of the most educated I have ever met."

Kingsley laughed jovially. "That she is. I'm sure we can find a suitable place for her."

"Excellent," Arthur commended.

"So, back to the matter at hand," Kingsley prompted.

"Yes," Arthur agreed, "rescuing Merlin. I would like to take up this task myself, Kingsley. Merlin is my brother in all but blood and I will not rest until he is back at my side – and I want it clear that I will go to whatever lengths I must in order to make it so. Seeing as his abductors possess magic, I am in need of sorcerers in order to free him. Could I enlist the help of some of your Aurors?"

"Of course," Kingsley replied immediately. "How many would you need?"

Arthur thought it over. He didn't know how many Death Eaters were still at large. "Do you have a rough estimate of how many Death Eaters still roam free?"

"We know of at least ten," Tonks supplied while Williamson nodded. "The rest we've managed to lock up in Azkaban."

Guinevere shivered unconsciously beside him, remembering her brief imprisonment there. Arthur squeezed her hand. Even now that prison haunted him. Blocking out the image of Merlin being stabbed and then tossed over the prison roof, Arthur shook his head to refocus.

"Right, I'd like at least five Aurors," he decided, "along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"Done," Kingsley stated. "I'll handpick them myself. You also have full access to the Order of the Phoenix should you need additional help."

"Thank you," said Arthur appreciatively, holding out his hand. Kingsley shook it. "It is good to know I still have friends to count on in this world."

"You'll always be welcome in the magical community, Arthur," Kingsley assured, "You, your queen, your knights" -he glanced at Freya- "and your friends."

Arthur noticed his gaze and smiled. "How rude of me! Kingsley, I don't believe you've met Merlin's girlfriend."

Kingsley's face was rather comical as he surveyed Freya with ill-concealed shock. Freya blushed, waving a weak hand. "It's nice to meet you," she muttered.

"Merlin's… _girlfriend?"_ Kingsley repeated, still shocked. "When did that happen?"

"We've technically been seeing each other for the last fifteen hundred years, give or take," Freya humbly answered, her cheeks still pink.

Tonks quietly gasped in the corner but covered it with a cough. Arthur looked at her curiously but the woman's stare was solely on Freya, a small compassionate smile lifting her thin lips. There was also a tiny gleam in her eyes.

Kingsley's shock over Freya's revelation was deep; he hadn't been expecting it. He quickly replaced the surprise with determination. Speaking with fervor and comfort, his calming voice was sincere as he addressed her. "We will do all that we can to find Merlin," he promised.

Freya's eyes filled with renewed tears. "Thank you. I'm grateful to know there are others out there who care for him and want to see him safe."

Kingsley nodded. "I'll send my Aurors to you as soon as I can, Arthur. Where are you staying?"

"Send them to Camelot," Arthur decided. "I feel that is where we need to be for now."

"But, Arthur," Guinevere protested, "your father?"

"I'll deal with him, Guinevere," he replied.

"Sire, in this day the castle is far removed from other cities," Gwaine pointed out. "The Death Eaters will not be foolish enough to set up headquarters so close to the place their former leader met his demise. We won't find Merlin anywhere near there."

"You are right, Gwaine, but our greatest allies can be found at the school," Arthur countered. "And though you may not be fond of it, there are several different ways to magically travel. Once we know where Merlin is, it won't take long to get to him."

"But the enemy is also magical," Lancelot said. "They could move Merlin before we even get there."

"Then we will not alert them to our presence," Arthur replied, resolute. "We've done it plenty of times in the past. We will do so again."

"So what will be your first course of action?" asked Kingsley.

Arthur stood. "I would like to go to where Harry is and invite him, Ron, and Hermione to come with me to Camelot. If you could send your Aurors to the castle by sundown, that would be most helpful. I will also have to briefly meet with my father before I go to Hogwarts. If I could borrow Tonks as means of magical travel for that, it would be appreciated. My first priority is Merlin but I'm afraid I'm going to have to deal with my father before I can commit all of my time to searching for him. Uther is a stubborn man and will demand my attention until I can placate him. Only after I do that can I help Merlin the way that I need to. I don't want him to stay in the clutches of the Death Eaters much longer. We need to find him as quickly as possible."

"But you have nothing to go on," Williamson voiced in disbelief.

Arthur studied the man with a regal confidence. "I am counting on Harry to change that."

"And if he can't supply you with what you seek?" Lancelot asked.

"Then I will seek out the dragons," Arthur stated.

"Of course!" Guinevere gasped, joining his side. "If anyone can find Merlin –"

"– the dragons can," Freya finished.

"How could a bunch of fire breathing lizards do that?" Williamson wondered, confused.

"Simple, my good man," Gwaine replied, clapping the Auror on the shoulder while sporting a large grin. "Merlin is a dragonlord."

* * *

 **Finally we've involved the Harry Potter characters! I'm so sorry to those HP fans who were expecting them to come in sooner. But I can promise you'll see Harry and the gang next week! And we'll get a taste of what's happened to Merlin. Reviews are lovely! I'll try to have the next chapter up in a couple of days.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning: Merlin!Whump ahead.**

 **I hope none of you will end up hating me. This is just the beginning. There's going to be more in future chapters too... oh gosh, I'm sorry Merlin! It had to be done! *Runs over to a corner to cry***

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

14: Back to the Burrow

The burning was the first thing he was consciously aware of. It felt like some kind of poison slowly crawling through his body, a steady flow of icy needles raking against every vein. The next thing he felt was the terrible ache of his back, neck, and shoulder muscles. They had been pulled taut, his arms forced over his head. He tried to alleviate the pain by placing more weight on his feet but found his toes barely grazed the ground. Groaning, Merlin opened his eyes. His vision took forever to focus.

He slowly surveyed his surroundings, his foggy brain taking a while to process what he was seeing. He was in a stone walled room, his cuffed wrists chained to a blackened ceiling. A heavy metal door stood directly in front of him. There were no windows and the only light he had was coming from a small candle flickering in the corner. The steady drip of water could be heard somewhere behind him and all of a sudden he realized how thirsty he was. He tried to wet his tongue but it felt like sandpaper, his body too dehydrated to create any saliva. He soon found himself shivering, becoming increasingly aware of the intense cold of the room as he filled his lungs and saw his visible breath with each exhale.

Attempting to remove his focus on how horrid he felt, Merlin instead tried to remember how he'd ended up here. It took a while – longer than it should – for his brain to respond. He'd been celebrating Christmas at Arthur's apartment... Uther and Gaius had shown up… _the Clock Tower had been attacked!_ Rodolphus was there. He'd said something about continuing what Voldemort started. And then–

Merlin's heart constricted. He forced his neck backwards so he could get a better look at his shackles. The seemingly harmless metal cutting into his wrists was anything but. The surfaces were lined with words of the Old Religion.

His magic had been bound.

That would explain the fatigue, the weakness, and the difficulty it took to think. Those idiots probably didn't even realize just exactly what they had done to him. Though the rune cuffs acted as a barrier, they were also highly dangerous. When removed, they caused a person's magic to temporarily burst like an explosion; the size of the blast depending on how much magic said individual possessed.

Those fools! By binding his magic they'd created a living time bomb! If the cuffs ever became detached, his magic would level an entire city! But if they stayed on he was sure to remain in utter agony because unlike regular sorcerers -who merely felt the absence of their magic- Merlin was magic itself. He felt like he was drowning, managing to get some air but not enough, being pulled repeatedly under the surface. The only reason he probably hadn't died yet was because of his immortality.

Gracious, what he wouldn't give for some sort of relief! His back was killing him. It had been a long time since he had been strung up in such a position. At least when he'd been in similar situations in the past he'd been able to use his feet to relieve the pressure. This time his wrists were relentlessly supporting all of his body weight and the chains were cutting into his skin. Every movement made the chaffing worse; Merlin was sure that blood would soon be dripping down his arms.

How long had he been here? Where was he exactly? And what did the Death Eaters want from him? They couldn't exactly kill him. But maybe they didn't know that. Or maybe they did. Maybe they'd tried already and found that his lungs still filled with air. Maybe they'd poisoned him. That would explain why his stomach was in knots and the blood in his veins felt sluggish; or maybe that was just because his magic had been suppressed.

He was in the middle of these silent musings when the metal door was thrust open and a light switch flicked on. Merlin immediately winced at the sudden offensive brightness. Blinking furiously, he raised his head (despite the pain) to find Rodolphus Lestrange staring at him with a sickening grin on his pallid face.

"Finally awake are we?" he jeered, folding his arms and leaning against the door jam. "Comfortable?"

Merlin scowled. "Hardly. Tell me, have you ever been strung up by your wrists? Because if you had you'd know for yourself just how comfortable it really is. Is this how you treat all your guests?"

"My, my, you are testy, aren't you?"

"You would be too in my position!" Merlin snapped. He wasn't in the mood to play nice. "You can't tell me you received this kind of treatment from the Order."

"No, they were much more hospitable," the Death Eater admitted. "They even allowed me to sit down."

"Then why not show me the same courtesy?"

"Because I'm not one of the good guys," Rodolphus grinned. "And seeing you suffering is far more satisfying than watching you lay comfortably in a cell."

"Ah, I see. You're a sadist."

"Guilty as charged," the wizard smirked, his dark eyes glinting with sickening pleasure. Merlin inwardly cringed. He had a bad feeling. It only increased when Rodolphus pulled out his wand. "I've had the pleasure of torturing hundreds of men and women," he drawled, "I'm looking forward to hearing your screams."

"If you think you can break me, you're mistaken," Merlin replied.

"Many have said that," the Death Eater whispered, "and every one of them was wrong."

The Cruciatus Curse hit Merlin with full force and it took everything the warlock had not to cry out in pain. His bones were on fire and his mind deluded into believing he was on a pyre, burning for what felt like the end of his days. He vaguely tasted copper in his mouth; he'd bit his tongue. Suddenly the fire disappeared and the warlock found himself gasping lungfuls of air, his chest heaving.

"Remarkable," Rodolphus complimented. "Five minutes straight and not a hint of a whimper; this is going to be great fun!"

Merlin spit blood from his mouth before sending the Death Eater a mocking grin. "I can do this all day."

Rodolphus scowled. "If you think I'm only going to hit you with the Cruciatus then you're in for some major disappointment."

"Do your worst, Lestrange," Merlin encouraged. "I'm sure I can handle the measly spells of a hedge wizard such as yourself."

Rodolphus snarled in rage, again lashing out with his wand. An invisible force slammed into Merlin's chest, splitting his shirt wide open and cutting his skin.

Great, magical whipping; he just had to open his big mouth. Well, he'd never been one to hide his opinions, even in the worst of circumstances. Why change now?

Rodolphus hit him with the spell ten more times but Merlin did not yield in giving him the satisfaction of so much as a moan. Instead he stared hatefully into his eyes the entire time, allowing his body to snap back and forth from the onslaught, the blood freely falling from the cuts now on his shoulders, chest, arms, and legs.

"Not even a sound," Rodolphus muttered, a sickening fascination in his voice. "I hate to admit I'm impressed. Most wizards break after the first couple of hits."

"I thought you would have figured it out by now," Merlin mocked, "I'm not your average wizard."

"Indeed," he mused, his dark eyes dancing.

And then the attacks intensified. The regular burning from the rune cuffs was replaced by the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus and then, to Merlin's slight surprise, he also felt the magical lacerations being heaped upon his body from all directions. The pain was undeniably horrifying but he refused to voice his inner screams. He would not give this worm of a man any of the satisfaction he sought. Even so, the torture was so great that he soon found his vision clouding in darkness. He was slipping into unconsciousness; a silent relief to the reality he was currently experiencing.

Once more, on the brink of oblivion, he had but one thought as his body hung limp: _Arthur._

[][][]

Arthur stood before the large fireplace in the minister's office with a skeptical frown. They had decided to travel to the Burrow by Floo Network instead of braving the masses of witches and wizards congregated in the Atrium. Kingsley had feared the crowd had grown even larger since their arrival.

Pinching the powder between his fingers, Arthur turned back to Kingsley. "Are you sure this will work?"

The minister smiled patiently. "It'll be like stepping into a warm shower. Don't worry, sire, the flames won't burn you at all."

"Just make sure that you don't swallow any ash," counseled Tonks as she took her own pinch of Floo Powder. "You need to speak clearly or else you'll end up shooting out of a random fireplace."

"That's rather reassuring," Elyan muttered.

"Here, I'll go first to show you how it's done," Tonks offered.

The Camelotians gathered around the fireplace and watched with rapt attention as Tonks stepped up to the roaring fire. She threw the powder into the flames which changed from bright yellow to emerald green. With slight horror, Arthur watched as she stepped into the fire without fear and clearly shouted, "The Burrow!" before disappearing in a rush of flame.

"I don't think I can do this," Gwaine mumbled, his face just as green as the flames before them.

"Come on, Strength," Lancelot teased. "It doesn't appear too difficult."

"Then be my guest and go first, Chivalry," Gwaine invited, pushing the knight forward.

Lancelot looked to Arthur. Truth be told, the king was terrified of allowing him to lead the rest in some unknown form of travel. He'd lost Lancelot twice already; the last thing he wanted was for this to become the third. But someone had to go first and if anyone would be willing to sacrifice themselves in the face of the unknown it was Lancelot. Arthur didn't like it but he had to trust that he'd be alright.

"Be careful," he advised.

Lancelot nodded before stepping up to the flames. Repeating the same action as Tonks, he threw his handful of floo powder into the fire and stepped into the fireplace. "The Burrow," he shouted. The flames roared and when they died down, Lancelot was gone.

Gwaine and Elyan shared a nervous glance before the former hastened to the grate. "Someone's got to make sure he made it," he muttered. And without hesitation, Gwaine did exactly as Lancelot, disappearing in the flames. Elyan followed after him, nodding to the king.

Arthur turned to Percival and Freya. The former druid was hesitant. She caught Arthur's eye and sheepishly smiled. "Sorry, being surrounded by fire has always been a childhood fear."

Arthur filled with guilt. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be," Freya assured. "The Purge was long ago, sire, and those ways died the moment you took the throne."

Percival looked to Kingsley. "Would it be possible for two people to travel this network at the same time?"

"Yes but it's not very comfortable," Kingsley admitted. "Like we explained earlier, the space in which you travel is rather confined."

Freya frowned a moment. "Perhaps there is a solution."

Stepping away from Percival, her form began to ripple and shrink. Arthur watched in silent fascination as Freya's skin covered in black fur, her face morphing into that of a feline with large yellow eyes. Her clothing disappeared beneath the fur, almost as if it too was considered her skin. The long dark locks of hair changed to short soft fur and two pointed ears appeared, poking straight up. The black cat sitting beside Percival looked up at them humorously, letting out a soft meow.

"Are you an Animagus?" asked Kingsley, fascinated by the magical display.

Freya shook her head.

"It's a long story," Arthur answered for her, "One that we'll tell another time. Percival, can you hold on to her as you travel?"

Percival looked down at the cat for permission to pick her up. Freya nodded. The knight scooped her into his arms and held her protectively to his chest. "I'll make sure she gets there safely, Arthur."

"We'll see you there," Arthur approved, trusting completely in Percival's promise.

Kingsley tossed the floo powder into the flames since Percival's arms were occupied. Taking a deep breath, the knight stepped into the flames, shouted, "The Burrow!" and disappeared.

Arthur took Guinevere's hand and kissed her forehead. "I'll join you soon," he promised.

Guinevere smiled. "Don't worry, Arthur, I don't plan on getting lost up a chimney." She then followed the example of the others, vanishing from sight.

Arthur's gut tightened. Kingsley sent him a reassuring nod and the king returned it before throwing his small amount of powder into the fire. It turned green again. Gaining his courage, Arthur stepped into the flames. To his surprise, it really did feel like simply stepping into a warm bath, soothing and comfortable.

Making sure not to breathe in any soot, Arthur opened his mouth and shouted, "The Burrow!"

His body immediately began to spin as fast as a top and Arthur shut his eyes to stop himself from getting sick. His elbow knocked into something so he tucked his arms even tighter against his sides. A moment later, the spinning slowed and his feet planted on solid ground. Disoriented, the king opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of the Weasley's fireplace. Coughing a little, he stepped over the grate and began dusting soot off his jacket.

"Arthur, are you alright?"

A warm smile lit his face at seeing his queen slightly covered in dirt. Wiping ash off her cheek, he kissed her. "I'm fine. The others?"

"We're all here in one piece, princess," Gwaine answered with a grin.

"And you nearly scared the living daylights out of us all," Mrs. Weasley reprimanded.

Arthur finally noticed the gathering of Weasleys along with Hermione, Harry, and a few Order members and his smile grew. "Our apologies for the abrupt arrival, Mrs. Weasley. I must say, it is good to see all of you again. It's been a few decades, hasn't it Guinevere?"

"Around there," she chuckled.

"Tonks told us that you'd been reborn," Harry said, stepping forward to shake Arthur's hand. "You do look younger, just as she warned."

Arthur chuckled. "Don't let my age fool you. I'm actually forty seven - in my mind at least."

"Right," Harry smirked.

"Well, the biggest shocker was seeing you step out of the fireplace, mate," said Fred while clapping Elyan on the shoulder. "I'm still naming my first kid after you - when I find myself a girl of course."

Elyan smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Fred."

"What's with the woman who's an Animagus?" Ron asked suddenly, pointing to Freya.

Hermione smacked him over the head. "Ron!"

"What? She wasn't with them before!" he snapped, rubbing his skull.

"That doesn't give you the right to be rude!"

"I just want to know who she is!"

"Excuse me," Freya interrupted, silencing them both. "I'm not an Animagus but I can change myself into a cat. It's kind of complicated - something to do with magic of the Old Religion. My name is Freya."

"A.K.A. Merlin's girlfriend," Gwaine put in, wiggling his eyebrows.

Everyone's jaw hit the floor.

"Merlin's... _girlfriend?!_ " Fred and George spluttered at the same time.

Freya blushed, smiling sheepishly. "We've kind of had a long distance relationship for the last fifteen hundred years. I'm the Lady of the Lake."

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Mrs. Weasley said politely since everyone else was still getting over their shock.

"How about you then?" said George after finding his voice. He was inclining his head to Lancelot. "We don't recognize you out of this lot."

"I'm Lancelot," he answered somewhat reluctantly considering his unfortunate reputation.

"Are you really?" asked Ginny curiously.

He nodded.

Harry, remembering how angry Arthur had been towards those who thought ill of the knight, smiled widely, "Well, it's nice to meet you. Arthur and Merlin both told us that you were the bravest out of all the knights of Camelot."

"I wouldn't say that of myself," Lancelot countered humbly, "I merely did what I thought to be right."

"Ever so humble," Gwaine teased, rubbing shoulders with the man. Lancelot pushed him away, slightly blushing.

"Hey, where's Sir Leon?" asked Hermione, noticing that the curly haired knight was not among them.

"He's taking care of other matters at the moment," Arthur answered vaguely. He didn't want to announce his father's return just yet. There were other more important things to discuss.

"We briefly heard what happened to Merlin," said Hermione, sensing that the pleasantries were now over.

"What can we do to help?" Harry asked.

"I actually felt that you specifically may be able to help us Harry," Arthur answered, walking over to the couch Mrs. Weasley was offering. Guinevere sat down beside him.

"What can I do?" Harry wondered after they'd all settled.

"Voldemort may now be gone but his Death Eaters are still out there," said the king, "and something tells me that you wouldn't finish off the Dark Lord and call it quits."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly while several people in the room chuckled. Mrs. Weasley looked sour as Ginny nudged Harry with a knowing grin on her face.

"You're right," he confessed before his expression soured. "But even though I've been keeping taps on every attack they've made I've hardly been allowed to do anything."

"That's because you're still young!" Mrs. Weasley voiced protectively, "And you need to finish your schooling. You can become an Auror and go chasing after dark wizards until you do!"

Arthur scowled. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with you concerning that, Mrs. Weasley."

"Really?" Bill asked, raising a curious brow while the older witch appeared stricken.

Harry looked hopeful and Arthur couldn't help but grin. "I don't believe I'm alone in saying that Harry has proven himself enough. If we were back in the past, I would have offered him a knighthood long ago. But I suppose I'll just have to settle for letting Kingsley have him."

Tonks grinned, a twinkle in her eye. Harry frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Congratulations, Harry," Tonks chuckled, "you've been promoted to being an Auror – Ron and Hermione too, if they want the position."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're kidding," he gasped, staring at her.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Arthur more or less bullied Kingsley into offering you the job."

"But what about going back to school?" Hermione asked.

"Are you mental, Hermione?" Ron cried. "Sign me up!"

"Me too!" Harry declared, his grin splitting his face.

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, her face turning just as red as her hair.

Ron and Harry's grins slipped while Fred and George took three physical steps away from their enraged mother. The eldest witch turned her angry glare on Arthur but he wasn't intimidated in the slightest; Mrs. Weasley's wrath was _nothing_ compared to Merlin's (who could level a mountain with a flash of his eyes if pushed hard enough).

"What right do you have to throw them into such a career?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"My good woman, Harry, Ron, and Hermione have been qualified for working in this particular field for years," Arthur replied, keeping his tone diplomatic. "I may not have physically seen these things with my own eyes but Merlin showed me his memories – including the ones where he'd watched over Harry since he was born. I witnessed all of Harry's triumphs and I admit that they are remarkably impressive. Therefore I feel he and his friends are more than capable to put their skills towards a career rather than a classroom."

"Hear! Hear!" Fred and George agreed.

Mrs. Weasley was about to object when Bill placed a hand on her shoulder. "Give it up, mum," he said with a hesitant smile. "King Arthur's just saying what we all realized years ago. Let them move on."

There was a pregnant pause where nobody dared breathe. Mrs. Weasley stood as tall and strong as an oak until her shoulders began to sag and the fight went out of her eyes. "Very well," she muttered. "Just don't get yourselves killed." And without another word she left the room.

Arthur felt a little guilty but he didn't have time to dwell over it. "Harry, tell me what you know."

The young wizard reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Like you suspected, I've kept tabs on every attack made by the Death Eaters since Voldemort's death," he muttered. "In the last month they've caused seven bridge collapses, fifteen train derailments, and countless car crashes."

"Though the latter we can't concretely say was all their doing," said Ginny.

"-Even if Harry is adamant that it is," Ron grinned.

"All of the car crashes in the last month have had one thing in common and I'm not about to dismiss that," Harry argued, folding his arms.

"And what might that be?" asked Lancelot.

"Black smoke leaving the incident," Harry answered.

Arthur stiffened, remembering the 'black smoke' he'd seen during the Lambeth Bridge collapse.

"There's always smoke in major car crashes, Harry," Percy argued while adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses.

"No, I think he's on to something," Arthur muttered. He then described his experience with the Lambeth Bridge before regaining his memories. "The only thing I could compare it to was black smoke," he finished, "though I knew it definitely wasn't natural."

Percival nodded. "I witnessed one of the train derailments three weeks ago. Unnatural black smoke was leaving the scene then too."

"Right, so the Death Eaters are hiding behind black smoke, wreaking havoc," Ron muttered, "can't say I'm surprised."

"It's a perfect cover," Hermione reasoned. "Muggles won't be able to explain it."

"We may not understand that it's magic but we're not dumb," said Elyan. "We know there's something going on that the government isn't telling us."

"And soon people are going to start panicking," said Freya.

"If they haven't already," Arthur sighed. "The attack of the Clock Tower and the Palace of Westminster just might have been the last straw. Even if it's a holiday and Parliament isn't in session, the statement was clear: the Death Eaters have no fear striking the heart of London."

"What's their angle then?" asked Fred. "Why would they attack a place currently devoid of government officials?"

"I have my suspicions," Arthur muttered, "I believe their trying to bring about the superiority of magic. I don't think they're aiming for an exact target. They just want muggles to be exposed to their power."

"Continuing what Voldemort started," Harry said with disgust. "Can't they see it would be a mistake? The wizarding world isn't meant to be out in the open! It's best we're kept to ourselves."

"And that is where you and I disagree," said Arthur.

"You can't be serious?" said Percy. "You want to end the Statute of Secrecy?"

"That law should never have been put into effect," Arthur stated with firm conviction. "The only way to obtain true peace in this world is through magic and muggles working together, side by side, as equals. After we returned to the past, Merlin and I worked tirelessly on achieving that peace. We obtained and kept it until Morgana raised an army of Saxons to overthrow us. I was killed during that battle and Albion fell apart. But now I have returned and I know I am meant to do what I did before. That is why all of us have come back. We must stop these attacks. If the Death Eaters continue on their course, they will incite another Purge. True success is not won through violence but through love. If muggles could learn to see the good that magic can bring into society, they would not fear it."

"Let's focus on getting Merlin back before we venture after world peace," Guinevere suggested, sensing the topic was a sore one for the witches and wizards in the room.

Arthur couldn't blame their weariness. He'd seen it first hand in his time. Heck, he'd even been part of the community opposing sorcery for the first twenty nine years of his life! But he now knew how wonderful a world embracing magic could be and he was determined to see it restored. However, Guinevere was right; one thing at a time.

"Right," he muttered, "Harry, have you noticed a pattern with the attacks?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. They're kind of all over the place; not just locations but also dates and times. There doesn't seem to be a set plan for any of them. All I know is the first one started a week after Voldemort was killed."

"That has to have some significance," muttered Gwaine.

"Did anything particular happen on that day?" Arthur inquired.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of."

Tonks looked thoughtful. "I know Rodolphus Lestrange escaped about a week after Voldemort's downfall."

"How did he get away?" asked Elyan.

"We're not really sure. The Aurors that went to transfer him to Azkaban said that when they removed the cuffs he wore something slammed into them, knocking them all unconscious. When they woke, he was gone."

"Of course," Arthur muttered, slapping his forehead. "Rune cuffs have that effect. The prisoner's magic releases in an explosive blast when removing them."

"If you knew that then why did you let Merlin use them on him?" Ron asked, unnerved by such a thing.

"In my father's day, when we caught and bound a sorcerer, the cuffs didn't come off until after their execution. Merlin and I didn't know of the side effect until after we returned to Camelot from your time and started uprooting evil sorcerers from society."

Tonks paled considerably. "The rune cuffs you used on Rodolphus were missing from the crime scene, Arthur. When we got to the Palace of Westminster this morning, Merlin had his hands secured behind his back."

Arthur and the knights shared horrified looks.

"If those idiots bound Merlin-" Gwaine began.

"-They'd better pray to any deity they worship that the cuffs aren't removed," Percival finished gravely.

"What'll happen?" asked Fred though he suspected what the answer would be.

"Think about Merlin's title as the greatest sorcerer to ever live," said Arthur grimly. "The explosion that would follow his release may very well raze a city to the ground."

"But won't we have to remove them when we free him?" Harry asked, finally beginning to understand the gravity of the situation.

Arthur frowned. "We'll deal with that when the time comes."

Despite the danger it entailed, there was no way he was going to keep Merlin bound. The horrid thing about all of this was that Merlin was immortal. If the cuffs weren't removed, he would suffer the pains of death for all eternity! Those vindictive blighters! They were literally killing him with those cuffs and they didn't even know it!

Arthur slammed his fist so hard into the armrest that the inner woodwork cracked. Ignoring the looks of alarm, he angrily leapt to his feet, swearing as he did so. "We have to get him back!" he shouted. "We need to find him before…"

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Merlin had suffered so much. He'd endured more pain than a man should be allowed to bear. The very thought of him languishing further made the king's blood boil. He needed to let off some steam. Without another word, he strode across the room and left the house, slamming the door behind him. Ignoring the immediate chill of the outside air, he pushed his way through the two feet of snow in the yard and headed for the forest. Reaching a tree he deemed worthy of venting his frustrations, Arthur removed his sword from his belt and began hacking at the thick trunk.

He started screaming at one point, allowing his mind to get caught up in imagining the tree as a faceless Death Eater, something he could kick, punch, and slash his sword into. He attacked the tree even after his hands began to blister; his reincarnated body was not conditioned to hold a blade. Blood soon began dripping from his fingers but the king did not stop. This small amount of pain was nothing compared to what Merlin was going through right now.

"Arthur! _Arthur Pendragon,_ stop it _this instant!"_

Arthur froze. Guinevere pried the sword out of his grasp and tossed it into the snow. The blood on the handle seeped into the white, staining it remarkably. Arthur looked into Guinevere's eyes, finding both the disapproval and understanding he knew would be there. He barely registered that the knights, Freya, and the Weasley clan were in the background, watching him. Guinevere let out a heavy sigh as she caressed his cheek. Arthur leaned into her touch.

"He's in pain, Guinevere," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I know it."

"Then instead of attacking a tree you should focus on finding him," she gently reprimanded. "I know you sometimes have to release your frustrations but now is the time to set them aside. Merlin's suffering will not be alleviated by you standing here at the edge of a forest creating firewood."

Arthur looked down at his bloodied hands. "You're right, as always," he muttered. "I'd hug you now but I'm afraid I'm bleeding."

Despite herself, Guinevere laughed. "I'm sure Mrs. Weasley has a first aid kit we can borrow. Come on, it's freezing out here."

Arthur picked up his sword, wincing as his cut joints rubbed against the handle. Seeing that the Queen had managed to pacify the King's rage, the knights ushered everyone inside. By the time the sovereigns entered Mrs. Weasley was ready to tend to Arthur's wounds.

"Sorry," he muttered as she waved her wand over the cuts, healing them instantly. Part of him wished she wouldn't; Merlin's pain hadn't been healed so why should he obtain relief? He kept this thought to himself, however.

"Honestly," Mrs. Weasley tsked, now wiping the remaining blood away, "why did you feel the need to rush off and hurt yourself?"

"Merlin likes to describe it as my special brand of therapy," Arthur shrugged. "Taking my frustrations out on inanimate objects helps to clear my head."

Mrs. Weasley snorted. "And is it cleared up now?"

"Yes, actually."

"So what's the plan then, sire?" asked Gwaine, grinning.

"The first thing I'm going to do is return to my flat in London," he answered, examining his now healed hands before sending Mrs. Weasley a grateful nod. "All of you are going to return to Hogwarts and wait for me there. Charlie, Merlin once told me you worked with dragons. Is that correct?"

Charlie started; this had been the first time Arthur had asked something of him directly. "That's right," he answered, nodding.

"Do you know what happened to the dragons that helped with the battle, particularly Aithusa and Altiore?"

"They told me they were going to stay in the mountains near the school," Charlie replied. "The Ministry wasn't quite happy about that but they weren't about to argue with a couple of Old dragons."

"Excellent. Can you do me a favor? Go to the mountains and ask them to return to the school so that I might have an audience with them."

Charlie, though surprised, was clearly excited. "Of course I can do that. I've been meaning to visit them anyway."

"I'll go with you," Bill offered. "It's the dead of winter right now and it's not smart to be traveling through a mountain range on your own."

Arthur nodded in approval. "See if you can get back to Hogwarts within four hours. Tonks, is there a way you can take me to a location just outside my flat? I'm afraid I don't think the Floo Network will be an option - given the delicate circumstances."

"You can side-along apparate with me," she offered, understanding immediately that magically appearing somewhere in front of Uther Pendragon would be a very bad idea.

"It isn't the most comfortable way to travel," Harry warned.

"I'll deal with it," Arthur said. "We don't have much time to waste. Tonks and I will join all of you at Hogwarts in about an hour."

"An hour? Why will it take you so long to get there?" asked Ron, confused.

Arthur grimaced. "You'll find out for yourself soon enough."

"Arthur, take care," Guinevere voiced, kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah, try to come back to us all in one piece, princess," said Gwaine with a smile. "Maybe it would be a wise idea for you to leave that sword behind."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Where I'm going I'd rather be armed than not, Gwaine."

"You almost sound like you're going to your death," George laughed.

"I just might be," Arthur muttered before heading out of the house, leaving a very confused group of witches and wizards behind.

Tonks followed him without a word, reaching the edge of the Burrow's property before telling him to stop. She quickly explained what to expect before asking Arthur to take her arm. He did so and Tonks twisted on her heel, pulling the king along with her as the two were forced into what felt like a tiny tube. Arthur's breath caught in his throat and his stomach roiled. It was over as fast as it happened and the king found himself collapsing, retching the remains of his breakfast into the snow.

"Ahhh, sorry about that," Tonks muttered as Arthur slowly brought himself back to his feet. "I forgot to mention how disorienting the process can be."

"Funny," Arthur grumbled, wiping his mouth, "Merlin said the same thing when I transported with him for the first time."

Tonks let out a soft laugh. "So, are you ready to face your father?"

"As I'll ever be," Arthur sighed, checking his phone which had finally started working again now that they were away from magical interference. He had one text from Leon saying all he needed to know: _he's awake and he's furious._ Arthur sighed again. "This isn't going to be fun."

"It's your typical Christmas though," Tonks said cheerfully as she followed him out of the alley she'd apparated into; it was right across the street from his flat. "Unwrapping presents, dealing with unexpected hardships, visiting with friends, and having fights with your family."

"If this day sums up your experience of the typical Christmas then I feel sorry for what you experienced during your childhood," Arthur grumbled as he trudged up the stairs to his flat.

Tonks merely laughed. "Don't worry, Arthur, I'll be right behind you."

Arthur felt a slight pang in his chest. Merlin would have said the same thing. More than ever he wished his warlock was by his side. This was one encounter he would rather not have to face alone. But Merlin wasn't here and in order for that to be resolved he needed to meet with his father; the man would demand to see him until he gave in otherwise and the last thing Arthur needed when attempting a rescue was a distraction. Squaring his shoulders, he determined that he would debrief his father with the Reader's Digest version of events, haul him off to Camelot, and have him kept under lock and key –if necessary- until Merlin was back and safe.

Nodding to himself, he reached the door to his flat and pushed it open, walking in with his head held high and his determination absolute, every inch the king he had been born to be.

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 **Next chapter: Arthur VS Uther. You guys ready? Review and you'll get the chapter in the next two days!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I want to apologize for not getting this out to you guys when I said I would. I had every intention of doing so and then BAM life hit me rather hard. Don't worry, everything is fine; there was just a lot of good things that happened that I wasn't expecting. Anyway, here's the chapter and I will do my utmost to get the next one posted before next week. Thanks for your patience and for all of those wonderful reviews! You guys are fantastic!**

 **Disclaimer: I used scenes from Merlin season 5 episode 3 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon as inspiration and I might have taken a little wording from it too. So, naturally I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter.**

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15: Surpassing a King

Arthur couldn't help thinking about how hours earlier Merlin had been here in his small living room, passing out presents to everyone. It was incredible that so many bad things could happen in so little time. The atmosphere dropped ten degrees as he felt his father's disapproving glare envelope him the moment he set foot in the flat. Despite this he kept his head held high while Tonks joined Leon and Gaius in the far corner; as far away from the confrontation as possible.

"Father," he greeted. "I take it both you and Gaius now have your memories?"

"Arthur, where on earth have you been?" Uther demanded, ignoring his son's question.

"I was meeting with the Minister of Magic," he answered fearlessly.

Uther's eyes flashed. "And what business did you have, consorting with sorcerers?"

"So you do remember."

"Of course I do! And I'd like to know what possessed you to allow your manservant, _a sorcerer_ , to dictate your decisions like a puppet since the moment the crown was placed on your head! He brought about the downfall of the kingdom!"

Arthur's anger licked his insides. "Merlin did not bring about the destruction of Albion!"

"He used you, manipulated you," Uther raged. "What on earth were you thinking, listening to the advice of a serving boy?!"

"I trust Merlin with my life _and_ my kingdom!"

"That is why you are a fool and my kingdom is now nothing but a fantasy in the minds of men!"

"Forgive me, Father, but Camelot's legacy is remembered from when _I_ ruled not _you_ ," Arthur heatedly replied. Uther looked like he'd been slapped but Arthur continued relentlessly, "Merlin and I achieved what you never could; we created Albion. If Merlin had not been at my side I never would have been able to unite the five kingdoms. I would think that after everything I've done I would have merited _some_ amount of praise from you!"

"How can I praise you when you have gone against everything I have ever taught you?" Uther retorted with barely contained rage. "Knighting commoners,marrying a _serving wench!_ Consorting with _sorcerers_ \- making them _equals -_ and allowing others to make decisions for you!"

"I made my _own_ decisions after considering the _advice_ of my counsel!" Arthur replied, his own anger boiling beneath the surface of his skin.

"Your 'counsel' mocks the traditions of our kingdom and its laws which have been in practice for generations before your birth," Uther spat. "You show your uncertainties to them, confessing your fears -displaying weakness- and in essence causing you to hide behind the cloaks of lesser men. Making Merlin _, your manservant_ , your First Advisor? That, in itself, is the biggest disappointment I have concerning you."

"Merlin has been counseling me since the first day we met, father! His words have been wrought with profound wisdom that helped make me the king that everyone today knows in legend!"

"And that is all you have been reduced to, Arthur: _legend_ and _myths._ I told you once that the peace you brought to your kingdom would not last if you were not strong, if you did not give up on your foolish notions to be led by love and the whispering deceit of others. I prophesied that your kingdom would fall and it did."

"The people believed in me, father, and the kingdom thrived under my rule because I was willing to open my heart and listen to others instead of myself. With their help, I united and brought peace to the five kingdoms."

"Only to have the Saxons invade your land and end that peace," Uther sneered. "I spent my entire life building the kingdom only to see it destroyed due to your folly! You put too much trust in other people, Arthur. That is what brought about your failure."

"Trusting others is what made Albion!"

"Albion is a sick joke," Uther jibed hatefully. "A lie created by sorcerers in order to obtain the land and rule the people. Merlin and his kind poisoned my kingdom and you allowed it to happen! What destroyed you in the end, Arthur, was _magic._ Can't you see? It is pure evil!"

"Your hatred has blinded you, father! Magic is _not_ evil. It is merely a tool. The kingdom fell not because of magic but because of hatred and fear. Morgana's betrayal was brought about because she was afraid to tell you of her magic; she was afraid that your hatred would slight her in your eyes."

"That's ridiculous!" Uther scoffed. "I love Morgana – nothing would change that! She is my daughter."

"Your past actions spoke louder than your love for her when you executed every man, woman, and child who even so much as held the rumor of associating with sorcery," Arthur interrupted. "That brought her to ruin and the eventual destruction of the kingdom. If anything, _you_ are the reason Albion failed."

"This is utter nonsense! I refuse to be the object of your failure when what is actually to blame is sorcery itself!"

Arthur had had enough. He didn't have time for this! Gathering himself to his full height, he displayed the king he truly was behind the twenty four year old mask. "I know you don't approve of the way I chose to rule Camelot but you have to accept that I am not you, father, and I cannot - _and will not_ \- rule the way you did. I used to admire and respect you more than anyone but after learning of everything he did for me, for my people, and for my kingdom, I respect a man you hate simply because he possesses something he was born with. Merlin is my brother in all but blood and he is missing. As much as I love you, I do not have the time to sit here and argue with you over the past! I also will not be swayed from the cause I know to be right. You may have rejected the Old ways but I embrace them. I know that true peace is established only when magical and non-magical folk work together as equals. I was reborn for that purpose: to recreate the world that Merlin and I built.

"I am the Once and Future King, the legendary King Arthur of Camelot, and I warn you now, father, that if you should so try to prevent me from doing what I know is right, _you will fail._ I have surpassed every achievement you made during your rule. I established peace that lasted for decades. I conquered fears, prejudice, and hatred by exercising humility, listening to the counsel of commoners and nobles alike. I achieved a legacy that has inspired and lifted the hearts of men for centuries. And even if I am now considered a myth, I can promise you that when it is time for me to once again go down to my grave, I will no longer be merely a legend. I will be a _reality_ – along with everything and everyone beside me. Do not attempt to derail me, father. You will lose. My second reign has begun and you would do well to let it run its course."

Father and son stood their ground, their stubborn wills clashing like lighting in a storm. Neither was willing to back down from the cause they believed in and even though Arthur knew his was the correct course, he also knew his father would never approve. He was too set in his ways; he would never change.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned away from the cold shoulder of his father to address the others in the room. Tonks was awestruck, her eyes wide with respect and loyalty. Leon and Gaius both personified support and pride. Arthur sent each of them a small smile of gratitude.

Seeing that the verbal battle appeared to be temporarily over, Gaius stepped forward. "Arthur, what's happened to Merlin?"

"He was taken by a group of evil sorcerers called Death Eaters," Arthur answered. "I'm organizing a group to rescue him."

"You would be better off not doing so," Uther voiced callously.

"I'm not entirely surprised to hear you say that," someone snarled in the entrance way.

Arthur whirled around. Morgana was leaning against the wall, her arms folded protectively and her eyes flashing with silent hatred. Tonks moved to grab her wand but Arthur sent her a warning glance. The young witch looked unsure but decided to trust him.

"Both of you were shouting loud enough that I heard everything through the wall," she shrugged under her brother's scrutiny.

"Morgana," Uther began but the young brunette held up a hand.

 _"Don't even start!"_ she snapped. Uther faltered, his expression pained. Morgana reveled in it. "I want to make this clear: I hate you. I don't forgive you for what you did in the past and I don't want anything to do with you now. I've been given a second chance to change my life and I refuse to go down the same path you did where hatred and fear motivate my actions. Those two things led to my own personal hell and I will not let that happen again. Arthur is right and I'm going to do everything in my power to help him and Merlin reestablish Albion. Magic isn't evil, Uther. _You are._ "

Uther's face crumbled and Arthur watched as the familiar emotions that once broke the mighty king begin to do so again. His sorrow warred with his anger, leaving him visibly shaking as he stared into the faces of his children. The poor witnesses to this family affair shuffled their feet, unsure of exactly how to proceed. Arthur decided to take charge.

"While Morgana may hate and not want anything to do with you" – she huffed in agreement to these words – "I still love you, father. I want to make sure you are looked after but I must now go to Camelot."

Uther looked up in surprise. "It still stands?"

Arthur's smirk was wide. "It does. It is now a school where children learn to practice magic."

Uther's face was classic and it took all of Arthur's self-will not to burst out laughing. His father's eyes were as round as saucers, his mouth agape, and his face as white as a ghost. He tried to speak but words failed him. Gaius broke the silence instead.

"Camelot is a magic school?"

"It's called Hogwarts now," Tonks replied conversationally. "It's produced some of the greatest witches and wizards in the world."

"Fascinating," Gaius muttered, intrigued.

Uther's whisper dripped with poison. "You allowed this?" he quietly seethed, glaring at his son.

Arthur didn't even flinch as he replied, "I did. Camelot means a great deal to those who practice magic because it represents acceptance and protection from a world of hostility and persecution. The kingdom Merlin helped me build is the foundation of those beliefs and no, father, I am not going to change that. The school will remain."

"I will not allow you to do this!" Uther shouted, his face bright red.

"You don't have a say," Arthur said with finality. "You have no power here."

"And you do?" he challenged.

"I am the Once and Future King."

"That means nothing in today's world!"

"Actually it does," Tonks interrupted.

"And just who exactly are you?" Uther demanded, clearly disapproving of Tonks's short pink hair and flowing robes.

"Nymphadora Lupin but everyone calls me Tonks," she introduced. "I'm an Auror. I work for the Ministry of Magic."

"A sorceress?!" Uther spat.

"We use the term witch or wizard, actually, depending on your gender. And like I was saying, Arthur's title _does_ matter – at least, to the magical community. Unlike muggles, people without magic such as yourself, magic folk still believe in prophecies, especially the one about Emrys and the Once and Future King. Arthur would be recognized as a king by anyone of my kind. You, on the other hand, are known as an evil tyrant. Sorry to disappoint you," she finished, not sounding sorry at all.

"And good luck making 'normal' people believe you're a king in today's world," Morgana further mocked.

Uther was about to retort but Arthur interrupted, "Father, you were reborn to be the head of a major corporation while I was reborn to continue my destiny. I'm leaving for Camelot. You can come with me or you can go back to America and continue your company. Either way, I don't have any more time to spare for you. So what will it be?"

Uther looked upon Arthur and his rage disappeared behind a mask of indifference. He squared his shoulders and took a steady breath – the only indication of his inner anger coming from his shaking fists. "My son would never consort with sorcerers. Neither would he choose them over his own family. You are no son of mine. The moment I step out of this door, I will no longer call you my own. Do you want that?"

"If those are your terms then you had best leave," Arthur muttered, trying to mask his hurt, "and take your prejudice with you."

Uther looked at Gaius and Leon. "Will both of you also betray your king?"

"With all respect, Sire, my allegiance is to the Once and Future King," Leon answered, his loyalty, respect, and love shining brightly as he inclined his head to the sovereign he served. Arthur returned the gesture, his heart filling with gratitude and love for his childhood friend.

Uther tried to not let his hurt show as he looked at the old physician. "Gaius?"

Gaius's frown was prominent as he kept his gaze steady on the former king. "Uther, you are a dear friend to me but we both know that deep down I never agreed with your decisions concerning magic. I will always be a friend to you but I have been given a second chance and I will not turn my back on my kind again."

"But you would turn it on me?" Uther demanded, trying and failing to keep the hurt he felt from his tone.

"Never, sire," Gaius assured before boldly continuing, "You are turning your back on us."

Arthur's heart hurt. His father may have been a tyrant, he may have been wrong, but he still loved him. Seeing the raw pain in the former king's eyes was almost too hard for him to bear. He took a step forward, his hand reached out to placate the man who had brought him into the world, but Uther raised a warning hand.

"Don't, Arthur," he snapped, his voice as cold as his eyes. "When you are ready to denounce these delusions, I will be there. But, until that day, I never want to see your face again. You are _dead_ to me."

And without another word, Uther Pendragon turned on his heel and left the apartment, slamming the door closed behind him with a deafening bang. Arthur took deep breaths to keep the repeated hurt stabbing at his heart from being known through his tears. He couldn't understand why it hurt so much. He knew he had done the right thing, standing up against his father – he didn't regret his rule and he didn't now – but at the moment he felt like a fifteen year old boy, desperate for the approval of the man he'd respected for so many years of his life. But he'd been rejected. Even after all he had done, as a man and as a king, his father's approval had not been won. And that hurt more than he was willing to admit to anyone.

"We should go," he muttered, the slight tremor in his voice the only indication of his inner suffering. "There is much work to be done."

At least Morgana had the sense enough this time not to mock him. Instead she rested a hesitant hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed. "We're ready when you are," she said.

Arthur closed his eyes, took another steady breath, and shoved his thoughts and feelings for his father aside. Instead he thought of Merlin – a man who loved him for who he was, who was proud of his accomplishments, who lifted him when he fell, who listened to him complain, and who treated him as only kin would. A man who was currently in pain, suffering at the hands of evil men. Arthur's determination swelled.

Twisting around, he betrayed no inner turmoil, displaying only resolve to find the man who meant more to him than his father ever would. "Tonks, can you apparate all of us to Hogsmeade? From there we can travel on foot to the castle."

"Sure," she answered, her eyes alone betraying her worry for him.

He tried to shrug it off. He didn't want pity. He didn't have time for it. "Then let's go."

As Gaius was a first timer to this form of magical transportation, Tonks briefly explained what she was about to do. "I'll take you one at a time," she decided, "since it's already uncomfortable with two. I'll take you first, Arthur, so that you can be there to help Gaius should he need it. Morgana, I don't know if you'll need assistance –"

"I'll be fine," she stubbornly interrupted, folding her arms.

Tonks frowned. "Suit yourself," she muttered before taking Arthur's arm. "Hold tight, sire."

And with a twist of her heel, Arthur was pulled into the tight tube-like feeling of apparation. In seconds Auror and King reappeared in the streets of Hogsmeade, which was currently covered in snow. Arthur found they'd landed in a snow patch that went all the way up to his knees, his thin jeans and shoes immediately becoming soaked to the skin. Shivering slightly, he dug his hands into his red jacket and stared around. The quaint village looked like a Christmas card, the shops displaying all kinds of homey gifts for the holiday behind frosted windows. Thick amounts of snow layered the roofs, windowsills, and doorsteps.

"I'll be back in a sec," Tonks promised the king after checking to make sure he was fine waiting a moment more in the snow.

Ignoring the chattering of his teeth, Arthur focused on the large chunks of white falling from the sky, drifting lazily in the slight breeze. It was so peaceful here, such a different atmosphere to the one he'd just come from. Again he forced the tears away, refusing to let any fall; they would only freeze on his cheeks and betray him to the others when they arrived. There was a slight popping noise as Tonks reappeared with a rather green-faced Morgana. The witch didn't stick around to witness the former High Priestess bend over and release the contents of her stomach, deciding it was probably best not to anger her with a knowing smirk.

Arthur, however hesitant, couldn't resist teasing her. "You know, for someone who was once comfortable with magic, your body seems not to be."

"Oh, shut up," Morgana weakly snapped, wiping her mouth.

Setting aside his smile, he let his true concern show. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" she retorted. "Why on earth did she drop us off in the snow? Doesn't she know it's freezing out here?"

Before Arthur could reply, Tonks returned with Leon who, to his credit, may have looked sick but kept his nausea under control. With a nod to Arthur, Tonks disappeared one last time and a moment later, returned with Gaius. The old man swayed dangerously, his face relatively pale. Arthur and Leon immediately steadied him.

"I'm alright," he gasped, his eyes closed.

"You're a bad liar, Gaius," Arthur admonished, trying to mask his worry beneath a grin.

"I beg to differ," he jibed, a worn smile climbing his wizened cheeks. "I managed to hide Merlin from both you and your father for over ten years."

"True," Arthur reasoned before sobering. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm a doctor, Arthur, I know my condition," he gently chided. "I will be fine – if we get out of this blasted weather."

Arthur and Leon shared a chuckle before the knight turned to Tonks. "I don't suppose you know of a faster route to the castle than using our feet?"

"No but I do know of path devoid of snow." Tonks pointed to a pub across the street labeled 'The Hogs Head'. "The secret passage to get into the school should still be there since Merlin fixed the Room of Requirement."

"Then let's take it," Arthur replied, leading the cold and wet procession along.

The old bartender did not look at all pleased to see them, his face rather sour as he nodded to Tonks in recognition. His eyes did widen when he realized who just happened to be accompanying the pink-haired witch and he whipped out his wand so fast that Arthur didn't even know where it had been previously stowed.

"Morgana Pendragon," he muttered, his wand pointed right at her. "Or am I seeing a double?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "You might as well lower your wand, old man. I do not have the capability of harming you – and even if I did, I wouldn't do so. You may have a hard time believing it but my allegiance has changed."

"You're right," he groused, "I don't believe it."

"Aberforth, you can trust her," said Tonks. "She's no longer a threat."

"And how do I know you haven't been Imperiused to say that?" he demanded.

Arthur stepped forward. He'd already had to deal with one stubborn man today and he didn't have the patience to do so again. "Look, I know you may be just a tad bit wary concerning my half sister but I give you my word that she has changed. Now, you may not accept that word but frankly -at the moment- I don't care if you do or not. I don't have time to stand here and continue arguing over Morgana's loyalties when my Warlock is suffering at the hands of Death Eaters. Kindly show us the way to the secret entrance into the castle or I will ask Tonks to remove you and show us herself."

Aberforth's bushy eyebrows rose under the king's brazen demands. He didn't look at all happy about it but he decided he didn't want to waste the energy arguing with the young king. Gruffly throwing his dirty towel down on the counter next to the mug he'd been 'cleaning', he waved them into the back of the pub where a large picture of a young girl hung. She smiled pleasantly at them in her yellow dress and curtseyed at the sight of the Future King before the portrait swung open.

"If the castle is overrun with Death Eaters because of her it'll be on your head," Aberforth grunted in goodbye, giving Morgana the most distrusted look he could muster.

The former High Priestess tried to hide her hurt and regret as she climbed into the portrait hole. After helping Leon hoist Gaius inside, Arthur gently squeezed her shoulder. Morgana's small nod of thanks was the only response as she followed Tonks who had gone ahead, providing light from her wand to guide them through the tunnel.

"Do all the portraits in the magical world move?" Gaius asked a short while later.

"Yes and most of them talk too," Tonks answered conversationally, glancing over her shoulder to wink at him. "They can chatter quite a bit if you let them."

"Fascinating," he muttered, his eyes lighting up as he contemplated her response. "How does it work?"

"Well, it's like an imprint of the individual is put into the painting," said Tonks as the passage began sloping slightly upward. "The painting will have the memories of the person but it's not to be mistaken for them; it's just another way of keeping those you love close after they're gone."

Gaius took this in stride. Arthur figured the old man would probably handle every magical discovery with the same attitude; he was one who thrived and embraced knowledge after all, especially the magical kind.

After an immeasurable amount of time the tunnel came to an end and Arthur had to squint until his eyes could readjust to the light coming from the many torches lining a rather handsome room decorated with tapestries containing the Pendragon crest.

"Merlin's personal touch," Tonks commented, seeing what had drawn the king's gaze.

Arthur nodded in silent approval before walking across the solid stone floor towards the door on the opposite side of the chamber. The sun had finally set, the swirls of snow no longer visible outside the many windows as the small procession made its way down the corridors and staircases towards the Great Hall. Torches provided warmth, burning brightly and bathing the stone walls with a cheerful glow.

Arthur vaguely noted the castle had been decorated for Christmas; wreaths, garlands of pine, and even the suits of armor enchanted to sing carols lined the halls. Large icicles hung from the banisters and when he entered the Great Hall a few minutes later, he noticed twelve large highly decorated trees; live fairies could be seen flittering around the thick branches. Snow fell from the enchanted ceiling and the four long tables meant to represent each Hogwarts house had been replaced with one, filled to the brim with food and occupied with a handful of students and Hogwarts staff. It was also here that he found the rest of the Knights of the Round, the Golden Trio, and his darling wife.

"Arthur!" Guinevere cried, rushing from her spot at the table and running up to him.

For the first time in what felt like an age, Arthur smiled, gathering his wife into his arms. The immediate love and comfort she brought fueled the ache inside and the burning hurt of his heart was replaced with her tenderness.

She pulled away, caressing his cheek. "How did it go?" she asked, searching his eyes.

Arthur tried to smile but he didn't fool her. He shrugged. "It wasn't all bad."

"If you mean Uther disowning him, it went quite well," Morgana said, striding into the hall.

Arthur glared at her but Morgana merely shrugged. It was the truth after all.

"Oh, Arthur," Guinevere muttered, kissing his cheek.

Arthur tried to keep his emotions in check. He would not release them here; not in front of so many people. Bringing Guinevere's hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles and smiled. The silent communication passed between them and Guinevere nodded, understanding that later, in a more private setting, they could discuss things more openly.

The knights, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the table, the latter three eyeing Morgana with heavy distrust as they approached.

"The knights told us that you've changed sides," Harry muttered, surveying her, "but you'll have to forgive us if it takes a while to actually believe that."

"I understand your hesitancy," she sighed, folding her arms. "All I ask is that if you try to hex me, know that I'm defenseless to stop you."

"Your magic," Hermione asked, "is it really gone?"

Morgana nodded though she didn't look regretful. In fact, a part of her appeared relieved. "I guess the Old Religion decided that I shouldn't have it this time."

Gwaine put his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. "Doesn't change my mind," he grinned as Morgana slightly blushed.

Arthur cleared his throat, silently agreeing with the absolutely shocked looks on the young witch's and wizards' faces; Gwaine's feelings for Morgana still eluded him. "I'm glad to see all of you made it here safely."

"Charlie and Bill went to meet with the dragons the second we popped out of McGonagall's fireplace," Harry informed as the procession made their way towards the table where several people sat, staring at them with a mixture of awe and fear – the latter emotion directed towards Morgana.

"We told them not to worry about you," Gwaine muttered to her comfortingly. "It may take some time."

"I understand," Morgana sighed, holding her head high but keeping her hand tightly laced with Gwaine's.

"King Arthur," Professor McGonagall greeted, standing up from the table with a smile. "We were quite surprised when Potter told us you had returned. Welcome back to Hogwarts."

Arthur grinned. "It is good to be home and it is good to see you again, Professor. This is Gaius, my Court Physician and Merlin's mentor. I take it you remember Morgana?"

Professor McGonagall eyed Gaius with fascination and Morgana with forced politeness. "It's nice to meet you, Gaius, and yes, I do remember your half sister."

Morgana stepped forward. "I know it is going to take more than words to change the magical world's opinion of me but I want you to know that I regret my actions and behaviors demonstrated to you and others in the past. I want it clear that my intentions are only to help and right the wrongs I did before."

Professor McGonagall studied her silently before finally giving a curt nod. "If King Arthur and Merlin trust you then that is enough for me. Is it true, Arthur? Has Merlin been captured?"

"It's true," Arthur replied, his heart heavy.

"What must be done?"

Arthur had to admire the woman and her willingness to help. He noticed there were other Order members in the midst of the few students that apparently had stayed for Christmas, each one of them also showing their loyalty to the cause. It was this, combined with the assurance of his men, that spurred him into action. Not even ten minutes later, the Order members, the Camelotians, and the Golden Trio had gathered together in the Staff Room where Arthur, at the head of the table, debriefed them on everything that had happened since his memories returned, including the effects of the rune cuffs Merlin had been bound with. The news was grave and everyone held mixtures of grief and determination to do what they could to bring their favorite warlock home.

"The rest of the Aurors should be arriving in two hours," Arthur said, "and I expect Bill and Charlie to return with Aithusa and Altiore before then."

"What should we do now?" asked Professor Slughorn.

Arthur grimaced. "We wait. Due to the little information we have, there is not really a course of action we can currently –"

He was interrupted by a flash of fire which appeared right in front of him. Startled, Arthur's hand reflexively went for his sword but his stance relaxed as a rather magnificent-looking bird appeared with gold and red plumage. Fawkes the phoenix let out a soft, quivering note in greeting, his exquisite eyes portraying his happiness at seeing the king. Like before, during the Battle of Hogwarts when he took him and Merlin to Elyan, Fawkes waved his tail feathers in his direction.

"I think he wants you to go somewhere," Harry voiced just as stunned as everyone else over Fawkes's sudden appearance.

Arthur eyed Fawkes curiously. The bird waved his feathers again. Baffled, the king glanced at the Order members. "Um, should I…?"

"I learned long ago that when Fawkes shows up it is for good reason," said Professor McGonagall. "You should go with him, Arthur."

"But I don't even know where we're going!" he protested. Fawkes let out another note and a warm calm stole over the king, silencing his unease. Arthur quirked an eyebrow before letting out a heavy sigh. "Alright, I'll go with you. But we need to be back before Aithusa and Altiore get here!"

Fawkes nodded, moving his tail feathers again. With a hesitant hand, Arthur grabbed hold of the soft plumage, the slick feathers feeling like silk against his palm. Warmth spread around his frame and he felt his feet lift off the ground as the two disappeared in a flash of fire that didn't burn but soothed his soul. A moment later Arthur found himself standing in the knee-deep snow of a forest clearing in the middle of nowhere. Fawkes sat in the snow beside him, his red and gold feathers sticking out like a beacon from the white. Even though the moon had just barely begun to rise and the stars merely twinkled above, the whiteness of the snow made it easy to see the large stone boulder five feet in front of him.

In the middle of the boulder, its metal gleaming even in the dark, was a blade Arthur had held in the last moments of his previous life. The gold in the hilt extended down onto the metal where the famous inscription written in the language of the Old Religion rested: Take Me Up, Cast Me Away.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. "Excalibur."


	16. Chapter 16

16: The Dawn of Change

Agony.

That was what Merlin felt. Rodolphus had finally stopped magically torturing him, leaving him in the dark in order to participate in a feast for the holiday. Merlin barely registered it was still Christmas as he hung limp, blood freely falling down his body, soaking what remained of his clothes and boots. Everything hurt and the sweat mixing with his blood didn't help. It wasn't until he was sure he was completely alone that the warlock allowed his whimpers to penetrate the air; he'd stubbornly kept his screams locked deep within his lungs during the torture.

Rodolphus had been ruthless. When he hadn't received a peep from his captive he had tried to lure Merlin into screaming with the Imperius Curse but Merlin had merely laughed, spitting blood in the man's direction. Rodolphus then resorted to other tactics, subjecting Merlin to physical as well as magical abuse. He slapped and punched him with one hand while waving his wand in the other, casting curses that made Merlin feel all kinds of horrible pain.

Still Merlin remained silent and it was this silence that drove Rodolphus over the edge. In a bout of rage, the Death Eater cast a killing curse. The spell slammed into Merlin's chest and created unspeakable torment. He had felt every organ temporarily shut down before kick starting again and when he looked up at his captor, his eyes had glowed gold despite the rune cuffs.

It was in that unfortunate moment that Rodolphus Lestrange discovered Merlin could not die and the warlock watched as the Death Eater's face filled with sickening glee. A man he could torture forever, who could clearly experience pain but never receive release. The Avada Kedavra joined the rounds of harrowing spells after that and -to Merlin's horror and Rodolphus's delight- each time the warlock was hit with the killing curse his body aged.

Where a young Merlin first hung, now an old man with long white hair and beard dangled. Merlin's immortality would keep him alive but the suffering of repetitive exposure to the Avada Kedavra had left his physical form in its weakest state: old and frail. He didn't even have the strength to lift his head anymore to show Rodolphus his defiant yellow eyes; Merlin figured the yellow was a visible imprint of his immortality. Despite this, he almost wished for death. No mortal man would have lasted as long as he had from this cruelty. The horrible part about all of this was that to Rodolphus he was a toy; something he could forever mangle and deface with whatever horrific torture he so pleased to inflict.

Merlin wanted to scream! He was the most powerful warlock of all time and yet he was completely powerless – all because of the rune cuffs that he, himself, had made! How ironic that the object he'd created hundreds of years ago to capture dark sorcerers now held him prisoner. He could almost hear their taunts, laughing at his predicament. But even when shackled they hadn't been treated as maliciously as he. What Rodolphus had done was inhumane; evil of the darkest kind.

Merlin wanted Arthur. He wanted the king to come charging through that door and save him from this horrific nightmare. He wanted the comfort of knowing the other half of his coin would be there like a big brother, taking him to Gaius, standing over him as a guardian angel while the physician patched up his wounds. Freya would be beside him, caressing his hand, her eyes filled with concern and love. Gwen would be on his other side, wiping his forehead with a cloth and smiling her sisterly smile. The knights would be standing around the bed like a halo, distracting him with jokes and tavern tales.

Such a glorified fantasy left tears falling down his cheeks and his lungs heaving painfully in deep sobs. He soon learned the latter was not the best idea; he had at least five broken ribs. Breathing _hurt_ and it was taking all of his concentration not to pass out again. He didn't want to wake to find Rodolphus in the room; the man could not know the pain he was in. Merlin would not let him see. He'd wear the mask he'd long since perfected during the hardships of his past before allowing that man to know that he had effected him.

Forcing the whimpers to cease climbing from his throat, Merlin focused on other matters. He thought of each of his friends, of the new life they had all been given, and of what each of them could do with this second chance. His thoughts lingered the most on Arthur and Freya. He saw the Future King that Arthur would be once the land of Albion was reestablished. He saw Guinevere ruling at his side, the two living to a ripe old age, their posterity surrounding them. He saw his Freya, her brown eyes filled with love and light, her smile as bright as the sun at noonday. He even fantasized of their children, little boys and girls running about with royal blonde princes and mocha-skinned princesses. A smile climbed his face.

 _When I get out of here, I'm asking Freya to marry me,_ he decided.

Their love had lasted for fifteen hundred years. That was reassurance enough for him to take the initiative and seal their bond with a ring. He refused to let his immortality be a wedge to keep him from embracing the yearning of his heart. Even if he continued to live on after Freya's death, he'd have their children and future generations to curb his loneliness; for they would be a part of Freya and that would be enough for him. He'd also have Arthur and Guinevere's posterity to look after and serve. Life didn't have to be completely hopeless.

Merlin's smile grew with his optimism. He would see this through. He was Emrys. Even if he could not escape here on his own, his King would come. He had all faith in that. For if there was one thing he was sure of, it was the bond he shared with Arthur. Their two halves were drawn together, bound by fate and destiny. He would find him and Merlin, even if he was an old decrepit man, would greet him with a smile and an affectionate insult.

[][][]

Arthur forced his legs through the snow, his eyes trained on the sword in the stone. He had a sneaky suspicion that Merlin had placed it here at some point; who else would shove such a lovely blade into a solid piece of rock in the middle of some forsaken forest? Arthur reached the boulder and smiled, remembering the idiotic story Merlin had invented the first time he'd removed the sword from a similar prison. His hand reached out and grasped the hilt with one hand.

The moment his skin connected with it, a spark of magic flew up his arm, enveloping his entire body in a warm, familiar embrace. He recognized the magic at once as Merlin's. It was comforting, warm, reassuring, and loyal. His smile deepening, Arthur gently pulled upward and the sword obeyed his command, slipping from the rock as if it were bathed in oil.

As Arthur held the sword aloft, a ripple of magic pulsated from the clearing, sweeping from the forest and flying across the land…

[][][]

Merlin's head still hung low but his heart was no longer in a similar state. He concentrated on breathing, trying his best not to agitate his broken ribs. It was during these steady breathing exercises that the wave of magic washed over him. Merlin let out a gasp and his heart leapt into his throat. His entire body was tingling, the hair standing up on his arms and neck. Though bound and unable to use his magic, he felt it leap for joy beneath his skin. Tears pricked his eyes and Merlin let out a soft chuckle.

The door to the cell burst open and Rodolphus strode in with several Death Eaters behind, each holding aloft their wands. Merlin's smile nearly split his face as he finally found the strength to raise his head.

Rodolphus was furious. "What did you just do?" he demanded.

Merlin scoffed, his smile still firmly in place. "I didn't do anything, Lestrange."

A laceration spell smacked into his chest, cutting open another part of his skin. Merlin's body flinched but his elation didn't falter.

"Lies!" Rodolphus roared. "That was Old magic! _What did you do?!"_

Merlin's smile turned into a smirk. "Nothing. What you felt was magic itself rejoicing."

"What are you talking about?" a Death Eater demanded.

"The time has finally come," Merlin declared, and though he was shackled and covered in blood, his body began to radiate with conviction and power; the Death Eaters actually took a step back. He continued, "The Future King will take his stand, with the sword Excalibur in his hand. Worlds bereft with strife and grief, will find the taste of sweet relief. United under common goal, Albion will find its soul. The King and Emrys, brothers be, will bring this to reality."

The Death Eaters stared, confusion written all over their faces. They wouldn't understand; their hearts were too closed off to comprehend such words of hope. Merlin, on the other hand, was practically bursting with joy. There was only one person who could activate that pulse of magic; it was a spell he'd placed upon Excalibur that would signify the return of the Once and Future King and the dawn of Albion in the modern world.

Arthur had once again pulled the sword from the stone.

[][][]

Harry sat in the Staff Room with everyone else, tapping his fingers upon the wooden table, wondering when Fawkes and King Arthur would return. Queen Guinevere sat next to Freya, holding her hand and comforting her distress concerning Merlin. Sir Leon paced back and forth. Sir Lancelot, an interest to all the Order since they hadn't met him before, was speaking quietly with Sir Gwaine. Sir Percival stood next to Sir Elyan; another interest since he'd died not even a month ago. Neither of them was saying anything.

"Where do you think Fawkes took him?" asked Professor Sprout.

Professor McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. "I'm not sure."

It was then that the wave hit. It flew through the castle, flooding into every vein beneath Harry's skin, filling him with light. He gasped, his soul swelling similarly as it did whenever Fawkes gave him a burst of strength and hope – except this sensation was ten times stronger. Tears pricked his eyes and his joy became so great he couldn't speak.

It appeared that every other person with magic in the room was experiencing similar effects. McGonagall and Sprout were overwhelmed, their hands on their hearts. Hermione's hands were covering her mouth, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Ron was trying desperately not to let anyone see his own tears while Slughorn sank into the nearest chair.

"Are all of you alright?" the queen asked, being the first to voice her concern.

"I think so," Harry managed to say around the lump in his throat.

"Care to tell us what just happened?" asked Morgana, keenly aware that it was only those with magic who had started acting strangely.

"It was like a stirring," Hermione tried to explain. "Something… shifted, I think."

There was a flash of fire and King Arthur reappeared with Fawkes resting on his shoulder, the ancient sword of Excalibur resting in his hands.

"Gracious!" Guinevere cried, holding her heart. "Arthur, you're back!"

"Is that…?" asked Gwaine, pointing at the object the king was holding.

"Excalibur," Arthur grinned, setting the beautiful blade on the table where it could be further admired by all in the room. "I think Merlin thrust it in another stone."

"And you just pulled it out," McGonagall guessed. Arthur nodded. "Perhaps the magic we felt was a result of that action?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You felt the wave from here?"

" _You_ felt it?" Morgana asked, sounding a little frustrated.

"Of course," Arthur shrugged. "I recognized Merlin's magic instantly."

"None of us felt it," Morgana grumbled, folding her arms.

"Those with magic did," Freya amended. Morgana glared at her but Freya didn't seem the least bit intimidated by the former witch.

"Can anyone explain why Merlin's magic was felt miles from where I was?" asked Arthur.

Nobody really had an answer. "We'll just have to ask him about it later," said Gwaine.

The door to the Staff Room opened and Charlie and Bill came in sporting large grins.

"Did you feel it?" Bill asked them.

The other witches and wizards nodded, all of them smiling.

"Something's coming," Harry muttered, the words springing to his mind of their own accord. He found the others staring at him curiously – except for Charlie, whose smile merely grew.

"What's coming, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry thought a moment and his smile widened. "Change."

"The dragons told me the same thing," Charlie confirmed, grinning. "They're outside and they're really eager to talk to you, Arthur."

Arthur stood at once, slipping Excalibur on his hip before making for the door. Everyone followed him out of the castle onto the sloping grounds. It had only been a month since Harry had seen either Old dragon but he had to admit there was something different about them; there was a gleam in their eyes.

Arthur walked forward and greeted them with a large smile.

"Well, well, well," Aithusa grinned, bending her head down to survey the king with dazzling sapphire eyes. "The Future King has finally come forward. It is good to see you again, Arthur, though last time we met you were not as wise as you are now."

"It is good to see you too, Aithusa," he replied affectionately, rubbing her scaly snout.

"You look younger than I remember you," Altiore greeted. Harry couldn't help laughing since the dragon had said the same thing the rest of them had upon seeing Arthur again.

The king chuckled, stroking Altiore's head. "Looks can be deceiving you know."

"True," Altiore agreed, his grin large and toothy.

"You released Excalibur from the stone," Aithusa observed, her eyes on the magnificent blade. "From this moment the prophecy begins."

"Sorry," Harry interrupted before he could stop himself. "What prophecy?"

"The one concerning the return of Albion," she answered.

This brought a series of significant glances from the professors. Harry wondered just exactly what that entailed.

"It cannot proceed any further without Merlin, however," muttered Altiore.

"Do you know where he is?" Arthur asked, his voice hinting his desperation.

Aithusa and Altiore both growled.

"We felt the moment his magic disappeared but we can still sense his presence somewhere in the heart of London," answered the latter.

"He is in great pain, Arthur," Aithusa mourned.

"Can you take us to him?"

Aithusa shook her head. "We cannot risk being seen by men just yet. It is one thing to be reintroduced to sorcerers but another entirely to rediscover the dragons. However, we can give you the knowledge of where we believe him to be."

"I'll take anything I can get," Arthur replied.

Aithusa and Altiore shared a nod before bending down their necks and opening their great maws before the king. Harry's eyes widened and he found himself shying away from so many teeth. It almost looked like the dragons were preparing to swallow the king whole. Then a blast of hot breath escaped them, enveloping Arthur in a light mist. The snow around his feet instantly melted. Even from here on the Hogwarts steps Harry could feel the unique magic. It was beautiful.

Both dragons ceased at the same time and when Arthur looked up at them he had a new determination resting on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

"Bring him home, Arthur," Aithusa muttered.

"I will," the king promised. Turning to face the others, his eyes gleamed with purpose. "We have work to do," he declared.

Moments later they were back in the Staff Room and Arthur was in full command, his thoughts completely focused and his orders precise. He somehow knew exactly where Merlin was, pointing to a map Hermione had conjured of the city of London. It was hard for Harry to believe that the Death Eaters would have their base of operations in the heart of a city they were trying to destroy. Then again, it was a great strategy; no one would suspect them of being there.

"Their location is rather detrimental," Arthur muttered.

"We could lure them away from London," suggested Hermione.

Leon frowned. "How?"

Harry tapped his chin, thinking. From all of his dealings with Death Eaters, one thing stood out above others. "The Death Eaters did Voldemort's bidding because they feared him," he said, speaking his thoughts aloud. "Anything he asked, they would do without question."

"So? What's that got to do with anything?" prompted Ron, voicing the confusion felt by everyone else.

Harry's thought process suddenly seemed really stupid. He looked at Morgana. She was studying him silently, her light green eyes full of calculation. He forced himself to clear his throat and plowed on.

"If we can have someone they fear come up with a good reason to spur them to move out of London, we can plan a way to ambush them."

He glanced at the king to find Arthur's eyes gleaming and a smile growing on his face. "That's not such a bad idea," he commented.

"And just who do we know that the Death Eaters fear?" wondered Slughorn.

Morgana folded her arms before pointedly clearing her throat.

"Of course!" Hermione breathed as the realization hit everyone in the room.

"But it won't work," said Bill sadly.

"Why not?" Harry and Morgana demanded at the same time.

"Not to be indelicate but you're no longer a witch," he answered. "And, unfortunately, I don't believe the Death Eaters will ever follow the orders of a muggle."

Morgana's eyes flashed dangerously. "You think me worthless because I no longer have magic?" she challenged.

"He doesn't, Morgana," Guinevere carefully consoled, "he's just stating a fact."

Harry felt kind of bad for her. He couldn't even imagine waking up one day and discovering he didn't have magic anymore; it would feel like a piece of his soul was missing. Morgana didn't look at all happy but she did apologize to Bill. Harry noticed the oldest Weasley's shoulders relax when her glare was removed from him.

That action was reassurance enough for him to restate his idea.

"Not that I want to admit this but I think all of us are still a little afraid of you, Morgana," he said. Bill scowled but Harry kept going, "I don't think you'll need to use magic to force the Death Eaters into following you."

"But intimidation would only go so far," Arthur muttered, "Though I do like where you're going with this, Harry. He is right. Out of all of us, Morgana, you are the only one who could convince the Death Eaters to follow you."

Brother and sister stared at each other a moment and then Morgana nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"You can't be serious!" Gwaine protested.

"Gwaine," she warned.

"You could die," he snapped. "Is that what you want? You've been given another chance and you're just going to throw it away?"

Morgana faced him with determination. "I'd rather die this time doing something honorable than cowering behind others. Perhaps this is how I am to repay the debt for my previous transgressions."

"I will not allow you to become a martyr!"

"Neither will I," Arthur said, stepping in before Morgana could argue further with the knight. Gwaine glared at him. "Morgana, you don't have to do this."

"No," she said stubbornly, "I do. I agree that it might be unwise for me to go alone. I'll need someone magical to help me; someone powerful enough to do magic without a wand that could fool the Death Eaters if it should need to be used."

"None of us could help you," said Professor Sprout sadly. "The Death Eaters recognize us."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward. "I will go with you."

Several Order members protested at once.

"Professor, you can't!" Hermione gasped.

"They'll know you instantly!" cried Tonks.

"Not if we change my appearance," the Headmistress shrilled.

Harry caught on to the hidden meaning but he still found a problem. "But professor, they know you're registered. They'll know what you are and how to distinguish you."

"Magic is a wonderful thing, Potter," she smiled, "I'm sure there are plenty of ways to disguise a disguise."

"What are you going on about?" asked Ron.

"Did you forget I am an Animagus, Mr. Weasley?"

"You can change into an animal?" Gaius wondered. "When explaining this new magic to me in the past, Merlin mentioned that a few New sorcerers could do this."

"I have the ability," McGonagall confirmed. "I can transform into a cat."

Freya perked up at the revelation. "Really?"

To demonstrate, McGonagall's form morphed, her body shrinking down until she stood on all fours as a seemingly harmless tabby cat. The only distinction that she was indeed the professor was the curious square shapes around both of her eyes to signify her glasses. Even as a cat she sat straight, her persona giving off the strict air she held in every one of the Transfiguration lessons Harry had attended while in school. For a moment he thought he was back in a classroom.

"Is it possible for you to do magic in this form?" asked Arthur curiously.

McGonagall's front paw flicked and one of the empty chairs levitated for a few seconds before settling back on the ground. A moment later the professor was standing where the cat had once been.

"I thought witches and wizards of today had to use wands in order to perform magic," Percival muttered, slightly confused.

"Merlin never said that those in the future couldn't cast wandless spells," said Arthur, thinking hard.

"That's because the principle of using magic in our time is the same as this one," said Morgana.

"What do you mean?" asked Gwaine.

"Sorcerers must draw the power of magic from the earth," answered Gaius. "Merlin, as you know, is an exception to this because he is essentially magic itself – though he may gain extra power from the earth if he draws from it like others."

"Exactly," said Morgana. "The New magic used today is a diluted form of the Old Religion but you mustn't forget that the power source is the same. It takes greater effort but people are still capable of accessing its power for wandless spells."

"Children can use magic without the use of a wand," mused Hermione, "But it's usually volatile. Only the most powerful witches and wizards of the day can perform wandless magic reliably and even then it's difficult to do transfiguration and charm spells."

"That is because it takes a considerable amount of effort to find the magic within the earth," said Morgana. "It's hard to pinpoint and access because of the abuse men has given to the planet. What?" she added since Arthur and Gwaine were staring at her.

"I just thought that since you didn't have magic anymore you wouldn't know about the Old and New differences," Arthur admitted.

Morgana scowled. "Though it was brief, my time here in the future allowed me to deduce _that_ distinction easily during the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort's power was great for a wizard today but even he tired from using wandless magic. I'm sure you are feeling a little fatigued?" She glanced at Professor McGonagall.

"Only a little," she admitted. "But it takes a lot more than that to tire me out."

Morgana smiled. "I like your spirit."

"Right," Arthur muttered, "now that we have _that_ settled we can move forward. Morgana, Professor McGonagall, are you both sure you want to do this? Infiltrating enemy territory can be dangerous."

"We know the risks," said McGonagall.

"And we're willing to face them if it means bringing Merlin home," finished Morgana.

Arthur sighed. "Very well; both of you will enter their hideout and convince the Death Eaters to move to a discrete location away from the city. Any suggestions as to where that should be?"

"It has to be a place they won't suspect the Ministry or the Order to find them," said Tonks.

"Somewhere they'll feel comfortable and safe," Morgana added.

"I used to live in Fawkham Green in the Sevenoaks District of Kent," said Lancelot. "It's a village with a remote forest area. I played in the woods as a boy. Oddly enough, it even has a pub called The Rising Sun."

"You're joking!" Gwaine laughed. "Is the ale just as good?"

Lancelot chuckled. "I may be biased since its part of my hometown."

"I've never even heard of the place," Arthur admitted.

"It sounds like the perfect spot to hide," said Harry. "It's out of the way from major cities and has a large forested area."

"But how likely are we to run into villagers should there be complications?" Leon worried.

"If we're far enough into the woods, we shouldn't be disturbed at all," Lancelot replied confidently.

"You can't just expect the Death Eaters to camp out in a forest," voiced Hermione.

"It shouldn't be too hard to create a place of refuge," Professor McGonagall mused.

"And the more magically enhanced it is, the safer the Death Eaters will feel," added Morgana. "We have to make it convincing."

There was a sudden knock on the door. Percival was the one who opened it to reveal three men and one woman.

"Ahhh, the cavalry has arrived," Tonks grinned. "Welcome to the party guys."

Arthur walked around the table to greet them. "You are the Aurors Kingsley promised to send?"

"We are," the nearest answered, inclining his head full of blonde hair. He was a tall individual with a strong jaw line and shrewd green-gray eyes. "I'm Dorian Bryce, Your Majesty. This is Victor Swenson, Adaline Hughes, and Trevor Jones." – The others nodded politely – "Forgive us but the Minister did not explain many details."

"Then allow me to debrief you," said Arthur who then launched into a quick explanation of Merlin's capture and their loose plan to rescue him.

Harry watched the Aurors with silent interest. If what Tonks had said earlier was true then these people were now his colleagues. Did they know?

Almost as if in answer to his question, Dorian Bryce was suddenly addressing him. "Ah, the new recruit. Welcome to the job, Potter. I assume you've accepted?"

Harry blinked, standing up. "Er, yeah, if you'll have me."

Tonks laughed, coming over and wrapping her arm over his shoulder. "Of course we will, Harry. As far as I'm concerned you're better than most of the Aurors on the force."

"Careful what you say, Tonks, others might get jealous and take that as a challenge," Adaline winked, her dark brown eyes dancing with mischief.

Dorian cleared his throat. "Regardless, I want you to know that I'm not going to go easy on you, Potter. I've just been appointed the new Head Auror and I intent to run a tight ship. Think you can keep up?"

Harry found his confidence shining through. "I think I can handle myself, sir. Congrats on the promotion."

Dorian smirked. "Thanks. Now, King Arthur, you said you were in the middle of making plans when we interrupted?"

"Yes, and it's just Arthur, please," he invited.

The Aurors joined the others at the table. Plans were soon made for them and several members of the Order to go to Fawkham Green and build an establishment that would convince the Death Eaters to drop their defenses. Arthur specifically ordered them to build cells impressive enough to persuade them that Merlin would be unable to escape – though he did so with a very sour face. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were asked to go with the group as well as Sirs Elyan and Lancelot to scout out the area and create a blockade of sorts to keep wandering villagers away. After the safe house was complete they were to return to Hogwarts and rest for the night. Morgana and McGonagall would check out the house before going to the Death Eaters and moving Merlin while it was dark. If they received confirmation from Morgana and McGonagall that Merlin had been moved to the safe house then the others would stage the rescue around midday tomorrow.

"The safety of the greatest man any of us will ever know hangs on the success of this plan," Arthur gravely reminded. "I trust each one of you with his life and am grateful that you are all willing to help me in the cause of bringing him home. You know your orders. If followed, Merlin will be here with us tomorrow night."

"Then we'd best be on our way," Dorian said, standing up. "Don't worry, Your Majesty, we'll do our part."

"I trust that you will," Arthur smiled.

Harry stood with the others and sent Arthur a firm nod. He'd do everything he could to bring Merlin back. The man had risked everything to help him succeed in the war against Voldemort. It was now his turn to return the favor. With Ron and Hermione at his side he followed the others out of the castle towards Hogsmeade where they would apparate to Fawkham Green.

 _Hold on a little while longer, Merlin,_ he silently thought. _We're coming for you._


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi everyone! Sorry it's been almost a week since I updated; life happened again. Thank you all so much for the reviews though. They really make my day brighter! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or Disney**

* * *

17: Preparations

After promising Gwaine that she would meet him in half an hour in the Entrance Hall, Morgana slipped out of the castle and wandered down the sloping lawn to the lake where Aithusa and Altiore had decided to congregate. Her thoughts were heavy as she walked. When she'd seen Aithusa earlier she didn't feel it appropriate to approach her since she had been talking to Arthur. But now that the meeting was over and she had some spare time…

Would Aithusa want to talk to her? It had been many years since they'd spoken. After the first Battle of Camlann, Aithusa had disappeared. Morgana hadn't known what had become of her until months later when she happened upon her resting in a cave. The conversation they'd had was a bitter one. Morgana had said some terrible things. She'd never apologized for them and the pain she'd accused the dragon of inflicting upon her had haunted her until the day she'd died.

Reaching the lake, Morgana stopped five yards from where the dragons sat. Altiore's blue eyes stood out beautifully from his golden scales though they were full of distrust. His mother, on the other hand, was smiling at her.

"Morgana," she greeted, "it has been many years."

"Mother," Altiore cautioned, "are you sure she can be trusted?"

"Don't begin to act as your father," Aithusa admonished him. "Kilgharrah was always one to label people as black and white. He never considered the gray. Morgana may have been destined for terrible things in the past but if you looked at her destiny now you would see it is no longer shroud in shadow. I saw this long ago and have waited many centuries for it to come to pass. Give us a moment alone, my son."

Altiore did not look happy but he did as his mother asked. Spreading his great wings, he took off into the sky, flying away to the other side of the castle and out of sight. Morgana watched him go before gathering her courage to face the one she'd once shared such a deep connection with. Dragon and woman stared into each other's eyes for a long time and then Morgana allowed her emotions to unravel. Tears fell down her cheeks as she rushed forward with her arms outstretched. Aithusa lowered her head and allowed the embrace.

"Oh, Aithusa, I'm so sorry," she gasped, wiping her eyes. "I said such terrible things. I didn't mean them! I was just so upset that you'd chosen Merlin over me."

"You were hurt and alone," Aithusa replied. "I understand why you accused me of abandoning you. I'm sorry you had to suffer the last few years of your life, Morgana."

"I brought the pain upon myself," she muttered. "I see that now and I want to make it right."

"I am truly glad you have seen the error of your ways and are ready to live in the light," the dragon smiled fondly down at her. "Like I told my son, I foresaw you like this, filled with light. It gave me the hope to stay with you even if what you were doing was wrong."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again.

"Shhh, there's nothing to be sorry for," Aithusa assured. "The Triple Goddess has been merciful and granted you another chance."

"And I intend to take it."

"Which is why you are going to try to rescue Merlin by pretending to be a practitioner of the Dark Arts."

"You know of the plan?" Morgana asked, surprised.

"Of course I do," Aithusa gently chided. "I can hear many things, my dear, over great leagues. I normally will not busy myself with the conversations of men but this one concerns my dragon lord. I thank you for being willing to sacrifice so much to rescue him. You really have changed. I'm proud of you, Morgana."

"I think growing up away from Uther and not having magic played a significant role in how I turned out," she confessed, "though I'm suspicious that Uther might be my father this time too. I never knew my father and my mother, when she was alive, never spoke of him. She said it was a one-night-stand."

"It would not surprise me if he were," Aithusa replied. "But I offer you the counsel to live the life you have now and not concern yourself with Uther. His purpose has been fulfilled and it is only a matter of time before he is called elsewhere."

"If that means he's going to die then I'm happy," said Morgana without remorse. "That man has brought nothing but suffering to me."

"Don't allow your hate to consume you again, Morgana," Aithusa warned.

The former High Priestess sighed. "I won't. It's not worth it."

"No it is not. But love is – especially what you feel for Sir Gwaine."

Morgana blushed. "Aithusa!"

"I knew you always liked him, even when you were on opposite sides," Aithusa grinned, her large teeth displayed in full force. "I see great happiness in your future with him, Morgana. He is a good man."

"He is," she admitted, smiling despite herself. "I don't think I deserve him. Not after all I've done."

"Does he hold the past against you?"

"No."

"Then why do you?" she wisely asked. "Holding grudges against ourselves for past mistakes hinders us from truly moving forward to a greater, happier future. Let the sins of your past wash away from your heart and embrace what you have been longing for since the day I met you."

Morgana laughed through her tears, embracing the dragon's snout again. "I'm glad Merlin healed you in the Cauldron of Arianrhod. It's nice to be able to talk to you. I didn't say this to you last time since I was yelling at you but you have become quite beautiful, Aithusa."

"Thank you, Morgana," she smiled. "You have blossomed too."

"You're son is adorable," Morgana commented. "I'm sorry he doesn't trust me."

Aithusa easily saw through her hidden worries. It was not only Altiore's trust she longed for. "Men tend to hold grudges over the misdeeds of others. But those men do not matter in the long run, Morgana. Those who forgive and accept you should be considered as the greatest treasures the world has to offer for they are the ones who will be so in your heart. My son is stubborn but even he can see the light in you. He also tends to be terribly jealous. He treated Merlin similarly as he did you when they first met. But now he sees why Merlin is held in high regard. In time, he will see this in you too."

Morgana hugged her again. "Your wisdom has grown along with your beauty. Thank you, Aithusa. I shall remember and cherish what you've said."

"See that you apply it as well, my dear," she advised. "It will only be for your good. Now, you should go and rest. Fear not the shadows you must walk through, Morgana. Look for the light and it will always be found."

Morgana took this in with consideration before nodding and heading back to the castle. Sure enough, Gwaine was inside the doors. Finishing his apple, he smiled at her and gave her a kiss. The tang from the fruit mingled on her lips but she didn't mind in the slightest.

"You found what you were looking for," he grinned, taking her arm and leading her into an empty classroom.

"And what might that be?" she asked.

"Peace of mind," he replied, casting the apple core in a waste basket before wrapping his arms around her. "I'll have to remember to have you talk to Aithusa more often. You look beautiful when you're confident."

"How is it that you can read me so well?" she demanded, smoothing his hair away from his scruffy face.

Gwaine shrugged. "I'm observant."

"I beg to differ," she teased.

"And why is that?"

"Because if you were as observant as you claim, you would have already realized that I've been waiting for you to kiss me since we walked in here."

Gwaine's eyes danced as his roguish smile grew. "Then allow me to oblige, my lady."

And as he did so, taking her up in to the clouds, Morgana couldn't help thinking she was the luckiest girl in the world.

[][][]

Arthur paced back and forth, running his hands constantly through his hair. Now that he was behind Camelot's portrait in the safety of their private chambers, he allowed his worries to be seen by his wife. Guinevere sat on the bed in a nightgown watching Arthur while fiddling with her hair.

The king's worry only increased. He knew that something was very wrong with Merlin. The unique connection they always shared was screaming that the other half of his coin was in grave peril. What were the Death Eaters doing to him? Merlin may be immortal but his soul could still be scarred. How could Arthur bring himself to sleep in comfort when his brother was suffering an unknown fate?

"Arthur, you're going to run a hole through the floor," Guinevere muttered, her arms wrapping around his torso from behind.

He hadn't heard her walk up on him so great was his worry. Letting out a ragged sigh, he turned around and held her gaze. The concern in her eyes was just as deep as his but he noticed it wasn't just for Merlin but also for him. He gave her a small smile, holding the side of her face.

"I'm sorry to worry you," he muttered, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

She smiled. "I understand."

And she truly did. Out of everyone, Guinevere understood best the connection he and Merlin shared. Both men had confessed to her many times their worries for the other, of how they just seemed to have a sense when the other was in danger or unwell. And at present, Merlin was both.

"They're doing something awful to him, Guinevere," he confided, his voice thick. He tried to clear it but the lump in his throat would not go away. "I don't exactly know what but it's bad."

"Merlin is tougher than he looks," she consoled, stroking his cheek.

"He may be immortal but he can still be hurt. Guinevere, I don't know what I'll find when we rescue him. I'm afraid… I'm afraid of how I'll react. I might end up doing something I will later regret. I don't want rage to rule me but when it comes to you and Merlin I tend to…"

His head fell on her shoulder as he pulled her tightly to him. He hated that there was a part of him, a small part, which still reacted in rage when his loved ones were threatened. It was his greatest weakness and it had often led him down dangerous paths. Merlin was the voice that called him back, that stopped him from doing things that he would greatly regret. He feared that this time, since Merlin was the one in danger, that there would be no voice. Arthur knew that if he found Merlin in such a state that rendered him utterly helpless the likelihood of his rage fueling his actions was quite high.

"Arthur, you'll do what you believe is right," Guinevere whispered, holding him tightly. "You always have."

"That is what I'm afraid of," he muttered. "Sometimes the things I believe are not the correct course."

"When you find Merlin, what do you intend to do?"

"That's just it, Guinevere," he pulled away, wandering over to the table and sinking into his chair. With his head in his hands, he continued, "If I find Merlin in a bad way, I'm afraid my anger will make me do something that might not be for the best."

"Do you fear you will kill the Death Eaters should you find him terribly hurt?"

Arthur's inner turmoil shown in his face as he finally brought himself to look at her. "Yes. I feel so conflicted, Guinevere. There is a part of me that remembers I learned long ago that violence is wrong and I strove to solve most conflicts in my later years without the sword. But there is another part of me that yearns to embrace my rage, that feels that it is appropriate to do so because this is a righteous cause. It feels like there are two people inside of me, warring for control."

Guinevere strode over to him and rested on her knees, holding his hands firmly in her own. "You were reborn, Arthur. Your mind may have all of your memories of the past but you also have to remember that you are a twenty four year old. When you were twenty four in the past, you were reckless. You ran more with your emotions than your head."

"I haven't even thought about that," Arthur muttered, frowning as he considered her words.

"You've been so focused on finding Merlin that I'm not surprised," she smiled, kissing his knuckles. "We may all be great legends of the past but we also have lives that each of us is living now. I was studying to become a politician before my memories returned. I worked at a café as a waitress and the greatest thing I had to worry about was studying for finals and wondering if I could ever be confident enough for a man to notice me. But now that I remember, the confidence I had as queen has returned and I can see so many things about my life that are now quite trivial. I've been reunited with the man I truly love, my appearance does not dictate my worth, and no matter how many discouraging people I run into, I know with all certainty that I have what it takes to follow what I feel is right. Do I still have insecurities? Yes. I've found myself still worrying about school, how I look, what others think of me. I've even wondered if you would still truly feel the same for me as you once did."

"Of course I do!" Arthur interrupted. "How could you even think that my feelings would change? I've never loved another."

Guinevere's smile was warm. "And I know deep down that is true. But, Arthur, you need to keep in mind that all of us have two lives we've lived. The fears and insecurities, the weakness and hardships, all of the things we faced when coming to know ourselves before are current challenges our second lives are having to deal with now. You can't tell me that you haven't felt it too? The confidence you had as king at the end of your days is not always present. I know you. I've seen it slip when no one else it watching."

Arthur realized that she was right. There were moments, like now, where he had doubts he had previously conquered long ago. Why did he have to face them again? Deep down he knew that everything would work out. Deep down he knew that he wouldn't allow his temper to dictate his actions. But the fear was there and it was real. It was something he hadn't worried over for years. Merlin had helped him overcome this particular weakness long ago.

He let out an exhausted chuckle. "Would I be horribly childish in saying I'd rather not have to grow up again?"

Guinevere laughed, rising to her feet and bringing him with her. She hugged him tight. "At least this time we know we can overcome our trials. We've already lived once, Arthur. We can do so again."

"Yes, but when all of this is over, what will happen to us?" he muttered, his insecurities coming forth again. "Like you, I was simply a student - though I'm studying law instead of politics. But I'm not entirely the same as I was before. I've been defying my father for years now. In the past I never would have gone behind his back and done what I felt is right."

Guinevere giggled. "Arthur, you clearly don't remember all the times as a prince that you would sneak out of the castle and defy his orders. Yes, you loved him and longed for his approval, but you still did what you felt was right. That hasn't changed."

"You're right," he realized. "Even now, after he's turned his back on me, I want his approval."

"But you stood up to him," she guessed.

"Yes," he smiled, "And I will continue to do so as many times as I have to."

She grinned. "And that is one of the many reasons I love you, Arthur Pendragon. You are your own man."

Arthur kissed her.

She caressed his face again. "Don't worry about what is going to happen in the future, Arthur. Let's focus on one thing at a time. We'll get Merlin back and then we can fret over what to do next."

He nodded before kissing her again. "Thank you, Guinevere," he muttered.

"You're welcome," she smiled. "Now, you need to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day for all of us."

Both of them wandered over to the bed but then Arthur stopped. Guinevere looked at him curiously. Arthur found himself blushing. "Well, um, the thing is, Guinevere… we're not married yet in this time. The younger me, the one used to customs of the modern world, feels this shouldn't be that big of a deal but the older me, well…"

Guinevere took his hand. "I understand," she admitted, "I feel the same. My soul is married to you, Arthur. I feel I can trust to sleep in the same bed with you for one night before marrying you properly in this time period. Of course, you'll have to propose again."

Arthur smirked. "I can do that right now if you like."

Guinevere giggled. "How romantic that would be."

Deciding to humor her, he got down on one knee. Holding her hand in both of his, he stared up into her eyes, his whole being overcome with the love he felt only for her.

"Guinevere Coulby, would you do me the honor of once more becoming my wife?"

Guinevere laughed, tears coming to her eyes. "With all my heart," she whispered, "yes."

Arthur laughed too, his own eyes filling with tears. Bending forward, he kissed the finger where a ring would soon be. "I'll make sure to decorate your hand appropriately," he said, rising to his feet.

Guinevere latched on to him, kissing him senseless. "I'll hold you to that, Arthur James."

Arthur then surprised her by picking her up and spinning her around. Guinevere giggled as she held on tight, her curly hair flying around behind her. Setting her down on the bed, Arthur gazed into her lovely brown eyes and kissed her slowly, cherishing the feel of her lips over his for several moments before pulling away.

"I won't do anything tonight," he promised, forcing away his desire.

"I know," she muttered.

While she buried herself beneath the covers, Arthur walked around and blew out all the candles. Climbing into bed himself, he pulled her close to him and kissed her hair. Guinevere sighed happily.

"I love you Arthur Pendragon."

"As I love you, Guinevere Pendragon," he smiled, kissing her forehead.

As Guinevere's breathing changed to a steady rhythm, Arthur once again tried to silently quell his fears and worries over Merlin.

 _I promise you that before the sun sets tomorrow, you'll be home, Merlin. I'll do everything in my power to bring you back._

Just as he fell into the world of dreams, he thought he heard a response in the subconscious of his mind.

 _I'll hold you to that, clotpole._

[][][]

Merlin hung limp, his bones aching, his muscles groaning, and his cuts stinging with the slightest movement. It felt like it had been hours since he'd last seen his torturer. Rodolphus must have gone to sleep for the night. That suited Merlin just fine. His long white hair fell about his face, a few wisps clinging stubbornly to his dried lips. He wished he could move them away from his face. He also wished he could scratch his chin. He'd forgotten how irritating his long white beard could be.

He wondered what time it was. Christmas was sure to finally be over. What a holiday it had been! Definitely up there with the worst possible days in his life. He tried to think back on all the torture he had endured when in captivity but nothing seemed to be as bad as the predicament he was currently in. It would take a lot more to break him though. It hadn't even been a day since he'd been strung up. Then again, the torture he'd had placed upon him had been the equivalent of what one would experience in weeks. Having enemies who knew you were immortal added to the amount of persecution inflicted, he supposed.

Merlin sighed. How he wished he could lie down and relax his aching bones. His old body creaked with every unsteady breath he took. Trying to distract himself, he wondered where Arthur currently was. He knew he'd been in a forest near Bryn because that's where he'd laid Excalibur to rest. Knowing that Arthur had retrieved the blade gave him hope not only because it meant the quest for Albion would begin again but that the king now had better means to protect himself against the magic of this world. He was now eternally grateful for giving the others their special protective clothes; they would definitely need them in order to rescue him from wherever he was.

Maybe he was close to Bryn? Or maybe somewhere far away from civilization? For the thousandth time Merlin wished there was a window in his cell. At least he could gather that it was either late at night or really early in the morning; he could no longer hear the sounds of movement outside his door, a sign that even evil villains needed to rest.

He longed for sleep but he knew it wouldn't be possible. He was past the point of being comfortable enough to do so. One thing he'd learned long ago was that when in the hands of the enemy it was best to remain awake. And so he hung limp, his thoughts retreating into ones of happier times. It was in the midst of this trance that he heard Arthur's voice and that alone brought happiness and reassurance to his weary soul.

 _I promise you that before the sun sets tomorrow, you'll be home, Merlin. I'll do everything in my power to bring you back._

Merlin found himself smiling. Even if it was his imagination talking, he couldn't help responding to it.

 _I'll hold you to that, clotpole._

[][][]

"I think that should do it," Harry muttered, lowering his wand.

The five of them stood at the corner of Fawkham Green Road and Rogers Wood Lane. Lancelot directed them around the entire forest, Harry, Ron, and Hermione setting up spells that would cause any muggle who crossed them to turn around and suddenly remember an urgent errand. Their biggest concern had been the Brandshatch Place Hotel and Spa but with a few clever spells laid down by Hermione, if any muggle looked out the windows towards the forest, they would see an illusion of harmless foliage. They didn't expect to have a grand 'firework show' as Elyan had called it but it didn't hurt be cautious.

"We should head back to the others and see how the safe house is coming along," said Lancelot, leading the way back into the woods.

"So this is where the famous Sir Lancelot grew up," muttered Ron as they walked back into the thick underbrush.

"In this lifetime," Lancelot smiled. "It's a quiet village."

"Every day like the one before?" Elyan teased.

"Yes except we're not in France," Lancelot laughed.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, confused. "I don't get it," said the latter.

"Beauty and the Beast, Ron," Hermione elaborated. "It's a great movie."

"I still don't get it."

"They're quoting a muggle film, Ron," Harry said, finally realizing this. "I never got to really watch any as a kid. The Dursleys had me under a strict 'no television-watching' policy."

"That's too bad, mate," said Elyan. "You missed out."

After trundling through the woods which were covered in a couple feet of snow, the five of them found the Aurors and Order members making the finishing touches on a house that, to Harry, looked more like it resembled the Shrieking Shack.

"Um, it doesn't really look that secure," Elyan commented.

Adaline turned to them after waving her wand, covering the wooden home in dead ivy roots. "It's supposed to look that way. A place where nobody would think to look twice, that's what your king ordered."

"What about the inside?" asked Lancelot.

Tonks wandered over, grinning. "Why don't you take a look?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Elyan and Lancelot up the creaky wooden steps into the house. Harry wasn't too surprised to find that the interior was much better than the outside. Rich dark rugs lined the wooden floors, cushioning their footfalls into silence. The walls were painted dark gray with gold candelabras posted every few feet. The living room held simple black furniture and the fireplace within was decorated with black and gray stones.

There were plenty of bedrooms, each with the basic necessities, and a couple of bathrooms on the upper and lower floors. The kitchen was just as dark as the rest of the house and there was even a room that reminded Harry eerily of Snape's old office. Unknown objects encased in jars of green and yellow water lined the shelves while tools and various potions ingredients rested on the counter by a large pewter cauldron.

"If she was still evil this would definitely be a room Morgana would use," Elyan muttered, eyeing the jars with disgust.

Lancelot had to agree. "I have to applaud their efforts; the place looks like it has been lived in for a while."

Harry noticed that he was right. He'd missed the details before but now that he was looking, it was clear that the house appeared inhabited. Not all the tools in the potions room had been put away, the floor wasn't immaculately swept clean, and several kitchen items had been left on the counter tops. The Order and the Aurors had really thought this through. It wouldn't have crossed his mind to make it look like Morgana lived here. He just would have created a house. Making a note to remember the little details for future Auror work, Harry followed Lancelot who had descended the stairs leading to the basement. What they found left Harry's stomach roiling.

It was a narrow hallway with three rooms sporting rather heavy doors. Torches burned, casting the area in a dull orange glow. Peering into the nearest room, it did not escape Harry's attention that there were dark spots all over the ground. A thick chain hung from the ceiling with a set of cuffs attached to the end. Harry didn't want to know what the dark spots were. Looking away, he moved to the next room. Another set of chains had been hooked into the stone wall. Tools designed to torture could be found in there varying from knives to whips. Harry shivered. The last room held nothing within it but on closer inspection Harry could make out claw marks on the walls and even greater stains amidst the straw on the ground.

"What do you think?" asked Dorian, surprising them from behind. "We tried to make it resemble both magical and muggle torture since we figured Morgana's past discretions would have involved both."

"It's perfect," Lancelot praised though he wasn't smiling. Everything from the scowl on his face to the hardness of his voice told Harry that he was not a man who delighted in such practices.

"Did you use real blood?" Elyan asked delicately.

"We did," Dorian admitted. "The Death Eaters would have sensed if it was any other kind. We wanted this place to look as real as possible. We have to make it convincing."

Victor joined them. "Don't worry, the blood is our own."

"You hurt yourselves?" Hermione looked a little sick.

"When luring in the bait, you have to make it appetizing," Victor shrugged unconcerned.

"Is this what you have to do all the time?" Harry wondered.

"Sometimes," Dorian admitted. "Being an Auror isn't easy, Harry. I'll admit I don't enjoy this part of the job."

"I came to tell you everything's set," said Victor. "We made sure the house has powerful enchantments inside and out. They would normally make it impossible for outsiders to find but we also cast a spell that will deactivate everything when we set foot in the area. The Death Eaters won't know the spells are gone until we're already here."

"Excellent," Dorian praised. "If everything's ready, we should return to Hogwarts to put the next part of the plan into action."

Harry took one last look at the torture rooms, his stomach coiling uncomfortably at the thought that Merlin would soon be here as a prisoner. It hurt knowing he couldn't simply rush to his aid but he saw the wisdom of this plan. He'd gained much from previous experiences; if he had been younger, he probably would have run off like he had in his fifth year with no plan and no consideration of the consequences that would follow. Sighing he left the house with the others and, after walking a ways into the forest, disapparated back to Hogsmeade.

* * *

 **Review? :3**


	18. Chapter 18

18: Morgana's Mask

Morgana was sitting in Gwaine's lap, wrapped up in his arms, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

"Gwaine?"

"Hmmm?"

Morgana's brow furrowed. "I'm scared," she confessed, pulling away so she could look at him. "What if I can't do this?"

Gwaine smiled and he lifted her hands, kissing her knuckles. "You're one of the strongest women I have ever met, Morgana. You managed to fool everyone in Camelot for over a year before wearing your magic on your sleeve."

"Everyone except Merlin."

"Well it's a good thing the Death Eaters aren't as smart as our favorite warlock then, isn't it?"

Morgana wasn't comforted. "Gwaine, I'm serious. In the past I was able to pull off hiding my true intentions but I'm not that woman anymore. I don't have the confidence I once did. I feel like there are two different people living inside me; one that used to be a horrible wicked High Priestess of the Old Religion focused on delusional rights to rule a kingdom and the other a timid twenty three year old who wants to be recognized and accepted but fears she'll never find a place to shine."

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way," he confessed seriously.

"Really?"

He nodded. "My memories as a knight have returned but considering my current life, I don't exactly feel like Strength. I more feel like I'm lost. I'm technically the owner of a large company but I've wanted nothing to do with it. I live the life of a playboy, neglecting the values I once stood by with undying conviction. Part of me wants to run away from the responsibility I can sense on the horizon but I don't think I can bring myself to do that now."

"Why not?"

He grinned. "Well, for one, I have someone I really care about now. For another, now that I remember who I truly am, I finally know where I belong: at Arthur's side."

Morgana looked down at their intertwined hands. "I don't know if I have earned the right to belong there with you."

Gwaine surprised her with a kiss. "You know, if you don't forgive yourself for the past you'll miss what you now have."

"I want to find forgiveness," she whispered quietly, "but I feel the only way to do that is by rescuing Merlin."

"I want Merlin back just as much as everyone else but I also don't want to see you hurt."

Morgana smiled at him. "Gwaine, I have to do this. I'm positively terrified that I won't succeed but I have to try. My inner demons won't go away until I do."

Gwaine pulled her in for a tight hug, kissing her gently. "I know a thing or two about inner demons. Do what you have to, Morgana."

Someone cleared their throat behind them and Morgana broke away from Gwaine to find Professor McGonagall in the doorway. "I just received word from Miss Granger that the safe house is ready for us to go and inspect. Are you ready?"

Morgana slipped from Gwaine's lap. "Nearly," she answered. "There's something I was wondering if I could ask you."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow rose. "Yes?"

"I don't really have the look of an evil witch anymore," she confessed, glancing down at her bright purple sweater and dark jeans.

"Hmmm, I may be able to help with that," the Headmistress smiled, remembering how Morgana had looked when she'd first met her.

Taking out her wand, she gave it a flick. Morgana's clothes transformed into her old tattered dress the black fabric coarse and rugged against her pale white skin. Her hair, once pulled back in a nice braid, was now ratted and falling in thick tendrils all over her face. As she examined herself, Morgana wouldn't have been surprised if her makeup had been altered too.

She turned timidly to look at Gwaine. "What do you think?" she asked, holding out her arms.

The knight cleared his throat and stood up. "If it weren't for your nervous expression I would think you were the witch who fought against Camelot all those years ago." He crossed the room and took her hands, coaxing her, "You need to embrace confidence, Morgana. Where's that inner smirk you used to pull? Where's the fire of defiance and rage that used to light your eyes and your actions?"

"He's right," Professor McGonagall voiced. "The Death Eaters won't follow you if you display weakness."

"But what if I fall back into how I once was?" Morgana cried, concerned.

Didn't they understand? She was terrified. She never wanted to go back to that life again. It had destroyed her. If she embraced what she once was, she was afraid that she would lose this kinder, gentler side that she so desperately craved to keep.

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered.

Gwaine shared a worried look with the professor as he hugged Morgana tightly to his chest. There was a slight rap on the door and the three turned around to see the safe house party had returned. Lancelot and Elyan looked on Morgana with slight apprehension. She bit her lip.

"Well, if you're all looking at me like that then I guess my appearance works," she muttered.

"Sorry," Lancelot apologized, "we just weren't expecting it."

Morgana's shoulders slumped. "Yes, I must be quite terrifying," she replied dejectedly.

Lancelot and Elyan shared a glance while the Aurors and Order members looked on Morgana with curiosity and surprise; they hadn't been expecting to find a woman of such legendary terror to be so unsure of herself.

Hermione took a step further into the room. "Are you okay?" she asked timidly.

Morgana didn't want to answer. Gwaine came to her rescue, slipping his arm comfortingly over her shoulder. "She's having some doubts," he confessed. "I'm trying to convince her that she can pull this off."

"Can't you just tap into your memories and pretend to be the horrible witch you used to be?" asked Ron.

Morgana stiffened under his callousness. Hermione hit him in the arm.

"Ron! You have the sensitivity of a teaspoon! Has it ever occurred to you that maybe this Morgana doesn't want to be like the old one?"

"No!" Ron snapped, rubbing where she'd hit him. "I don't see how hard it is to pretend."

"Though I've never experienced it, I'm sure it's harder than we think, Ron," Harry sighed. "Remember Snape? We thought he was a horrible git for years only to discover after he died that he's been playing Voldemort for a fool ever since the end of the first Wizarding War. He constantly had to wear a mask around those he associated with for years. Hiding his hatred for his former master, he put his life on the line to protect mine more times than I probably even know. He was one of the bravest men I have ever met and, though I don't know anything about you, I'm sure you have what it takes to do what he did, Morgana. You just need to find what is motivating you to put on the mask. Snape's was love for my mother. Once you have your motivation, I think you can do what needs to be done."

"Not to be indelicate but she doesn't really have the time to figure that out," said Victor. "We don't know if the Death Eaters are going to move Merlin elsewhere and it's best to act now while we know where he is."

Morgana ignored the comment that followed. She was too busy taking in what Harry had said. She remembered Snape. He had been one of Voldemort's closest men and he was the one who had brought her and Gwen to the future all those years ago. He had been guarded, closed off, and brazen. Every inch a man who didn't want the association of company and friendship. He had built quite a wall around himself. Such resolve, to stand in front of those you once called friends and pretend to be one of them, when in your heart you were hurting due to loss. Morgana's respect for the former Death Eater grew.

Snape's motivation had been love for Harry's mother? Though she didn't know all the details, it was enough for Morgana to question what her motivations were. Harry was right; that was what she needed to find. Searching deep within herself, Morgana sought after what would mould her mask of deceit. Surprisingly, it didn't take that long to find. Her entire past life had been spent pursuing after love, acceptance, and belonging but she'd never found it because her motivation had been hatred. It had caused her actions to push away any who would have given her what she longed for.

Even now, if things had turned out differently and she had stayed as Uther's ward, she could see herself eventually courting Gwaine and marrying him under Arthur's rule. She could envision chatting with Gwen, both now women of nobility, while teasing Arthur like she always had before he'd become king. Life in Camelot would have been very different if she hadn't given in to the hateful words of her half sister, Morgause.

But even if her past had been tragic, her future was bright. She now had what she had longed for. Gwaine had forgiven her, had accepted her, and was willing to try to building a life together. Arthur, Gwen, and the knights had given her a full pardon. Even Freya had looked past her previous discretions. And Merlin – he had cast aside their differences and embraced her with open arms. She'd been given her heart's deepest desire and it was with these thoughts that she found her motivation.

Family.

That was what she'd wanted. That was what she'd found. And now one of her own was in danger. Arthur was her brother and he looked upon Merlin as such. Morgana found herself wanting a similar relationship with the warlock. In fact, before she'd fallen off the path, she had viewed Merlin with sisterly protectiveness. She remembered when he'd been in trouble before, how worried she had been over him. That worry was consuming her now. Her little brother was in danger and she was the only one who could bring him back.

Consumed with this revelation, Morgana's shoulders straightened and her eyes flashed dangerously. Though some of the practices may be different, she was not ignorant concerning magical torture and she was sure that Merlin had suffered the moment the Death Eaters had taken him away. It may have only been hours but she knew how much pain one could inflict in so little time; she'd done it to others herself all those years ago. As she thought of Merlin, bruised, tortured, and bleeding at the hands of dark wizards, her fists clenched.

She had the ability to put an end to it and it was with this that she slipped on her mask, embracing her knowledge of the past instead of suppressing it.

Taking Gwaine's hand, she removed his arm from around her shoulder and eyed him with the inner fire she'd once held except now what fueled it was righteous determination. Gwaine began to smile.

Morgana returned it was her trademark smirk. "Thank you for your words, Harry," she said confidently, striding forward. "Victor is right; we don't have a lot of time. I'm ready to go when you are, professor."

The change was duly noted and several were looking at Morgana in surprise. Professor McGonagall nodded in approval before turning to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I trust your magic will be perfect to change my fur into a solid black coat?"

"You want me to do it?" Hermione asked in surprise.

McGonagall smiled. "I've been watching your work since you were eleven, my dear, and it is exemplary. If anyone can fool the Death Eaters into believing I am a normal cat, it is you."

Harry thumped Hermione on the back. "She's right."

The young witch caught Ron's eye and he nodded in the affirmative. "You know it's true," he grinned. "You can do it, Hermione."

Hermione's face filled with determination. "Alright but I don't think I can make it last for longer than twenty four hours."

"That's all the time we'll need in order to rescue Merlin," Morgana replied confidently before turning to smirk at Gwaine, "that is, if my dear brother and his little knights are able to stick with the plan."

Gwaine's grin was large as he let out a laugh. "And the witch has returned."

Morgana's smirk deepened. Professor McGonagall transformed and Hermione waved her wand. Everyone watched as the tabby cat's coat turned completely black, hiding the markings of McGonagall's glasses perfectly.

"Nicely done," Ron complimented while the cat nodded its approval.

"I apologize in advance if I have to hold you sometimes," said Morgana.

The cat flicked its tail. Professor McGonagall knew that in order to keep up appearances she'd have to go along with whatever story the former witch concocted concerning her. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to endure.

"We'll take you to the safe house," said Tonks. "After that you need to go to where Merlin is and convince the Death Eaters to move him. We'll be sure to arrive as planned at noon tomorrow to perform the rescue."

Morgana shared one last kiss with Gwaine before following McGonagall and the Aurors out of the room. The long walk down to Hogsmeade was a cold one; Morgana found herself shivering slightly in her thin dress. Tonks took pity on her and magicked a thick cloak for her to wear, saying that it would seem suspicious if she showed up at the Death Eaters hideout without one in this weather. Snow crunched beneath her thick booted heels and the sky above was light even though it was the middle of the night.

Tonks held on to Morgana's arm and apparated to Fawkham Green the second they were over the castle wards. Morgana's stomach roiled and she threw up into the snow, Tonks holding onto her while apologizing for the discomfort.

"Are you alright?" she asked, rubbing Morgana's back.

The young woman wiped her mouth and straightened. "I'll be fine. I have to get used to it if I'm going to use it to bring the Death Eaters here."

"Actually, we were thinking you could use floo powder," said Dorian, pointing behind him to the shack-like house. "We made sure to put a large fireplace with plenty of it in there. It'll be easier."

"I've never traveled that way either," she confessed, staring at the house with a frown. "Are you sure this is going to work? I'm not entirely convinced that anyone would think this a worthy place to hold a high-class prisoner."

Adaline shared a smirk with Trevor. "That's the point," she said.

Curious now, Morgana went inside and found herself surprised as well as impressed. The place was perfect in tone and style for harboring someone of the dark arts. The torture rooms in the basement were immaculate; there was even dried blood on the various tools and the floor. She nodded in approval over the dirt and grime, noting aloud that if the place had been sterilized it would have ruined the effect.

"You've outdone yourselves," Morgana commented.

"We aim to please," said Tonks with a wink. "Now, when bringing the Death Eaters here, you simply have to throw the floo powder into the fire and say: Fawkham Green Cottage. You'll come right out of the house's fireplace."

"Just make sure to not breathe in any ash and speak clearly," instructed Trevor. "If you don't, you could end up anywhere."

"I think I can manage," Morgana smirked confidently. "Thank you for all you've done."

Tonks stepped forward and surprised her with a hug. "Good luck," she smiled.

Morgana nodded in thanks. All of the Aurors except Dorian apparated from the house; he would take Morgana to the Death Eaters current hideout while McGonagall stayed put. Signaling to Dorian that she was ready, Morgana took his arm and the two disapparated. The street they appeared on was empty at this hour, the dull street lamps causing the collected snow to have a soft yellow glow. The neighborhood was like any other. Morgana never would have guessed the Death Eaters would be hiding here. They'd chosen their location well. Arthur had given her the address and after looking at the house numbers, Morgana realized they'd apparated a block away.

"I would have apparated you right on their doorstep but they might have a look out," Dorian explained under her questioning glance.

"I understand," she muttered, fixing her cloak tightly to her frame. "Thank you Dorian. I appreciate the help."

"Good luck in there," he said, clasping her shoulder.

Morgana smiled at him. "I've danced with devils for a long time, Dorian. I know I can handle this."

And without a backward glance, she wandered away in the snow, heading to the next street where the house was sure to be. It was wedged between two others, its lawn covered in snow, the front porch holding a wicker bench and several dead potted plants. At her approach, a man suddenly came around the corner, holding his wand aloft.

"Hold your spell, you fool, before I blast it back in your face!" she snarled, letting her sudden surprise fuel her anger.

The Death Eater's mouth dropped open upon seeing who it was. "Lady Morgana!" he cried, stepping forward and bowing to her.

Morgana did not let her inner fear show as she curled her lip at him. "Next time you attempt to kill someone, observe before making yourself known."

"My apologies, my lady," he muttered.

"Well? Are we going to stand around in the snow or are you going to let me inside?" she demanded.

The Death Eater nearly tripped over his robe in his haste to obey, rushing up to the house and unlocking the door with a brief wave of his wand. Morgana stepped over the threshold, surveying her surroundings. Even if she didn't have magic anymore, her soul cringed uncomfortably from the overabundance of dark magic in the house. Ignoring the red and black walls, Morgana confidently walked down the hall to the drawing room where she heard the sounds of harsh laughter. All noise ceased as she made her presence known.

"I must say for a group of witches and wizards trying to remain in hiding all of you have been rather clumsy," she greeted with a sneer, folding her arms.

She recognized only a handful of them but the only name she remembered belonged to Rodolphus Lestrange who leapt to his feet, his shock as evident as the others as he spluttered, "Lady Morgana! How is this possible? We thought Merlin killed –"

"You were mistaken, obviously," she interrupted with a snarl, allowing her hatred for these people to flare. "He may have won our little battle but when I woke, I waited for the perfect opportunity to escape. I've been biding my time, making plans to thwart him strategically, until you idiots decided to start random attacks all over Britain! You've made the entire wizarding world aware of your intentions! Honestly, were you even thinking at all? You can't expect to make progress by causing a little destruction here and there. You observe, you plan, and you execute with precision and intensity. But I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to warn you. You may have captured Merlin but the Aurors managed to place a tracking spell on you when you disapparated. I was about to join your little festivities when they appeared. I overheard their plans to attack this establishment in two days time. Lucky for you, I have a safe house not far from here. If you want to truly kill Merlin and accomplish what Voldemort started, you'll need my help."

"You're willing to help us? Why?" Rodolphus asked suspiciously. "You didn't do much during the Battle of Hogwarts a month ago."

"I was waiting for the opportune moment," Morgana answered easily, "I advised against attacking Hogwarts but Voldemort wouldn't listen to sense. He was blinded by his desire of Harry Potter's death and it caused his own in the end. Rashness does not achieve victory. Now, do you want my help or not?"

Rodolphus eyed the others before coming to a decision. "We accept your help but if you cross us, Morgana, you'll regret it. We now have a way to bind those with Old magic."

"I would assume so since that's the only way you could have captured Merlin," she sneered, unafraid. "Tell me, where is he? I hope you've shown him your best hospitality."

Rodolphus's evil grin made Morgana's skin inwardly crawl. "I think you'll be pleased. We've kept him in the basement."

Morgana followed him down the hall past the kitchen, continuing down a flight of stairs that led to another hallway sporting a couple of rooms. The thick door Rodolphus stopped at caused Morgana a sense of foreboding. Merlin was on the other side of this door and, no matter what she saw, she'd have to act according to what she found. If Merlin had escaped, she had to pretend to be enraged. If he was bruised and tortured, she would have to be pleased. Squaring her shoulders and sending Rodolphus a gleeful smirk, she ordered for him to open the door.

The air that ruffled her long locks was cold, colder than that of outside, the smell accompanying full of blood and sweat. Morgana was grateful that Rodolphus was behind her since she wasn't sure she would have been able to hide her horrified shock as to the scene that greeted her.

Merlin was hanging from the ceiling, his arms high above his head, rune cuffs cutting into his bleeding flesh. He wore the clothes he had been in yesterday, well, what was left of them. Most of his jacket and shirt had been cut to ribbons, thin strips of cloth hanging at odd points, exposing most of his bruised and bleeding skin. What horrified Morgana the most, however, was the state of Merlin's body. Instead of a young, energetic man in his late twenties, Merlin had aged into the eighty year old form she had long identified as Emrys. His long white hair and beard were speckled with blood, his skin riddled with wrinkles and spots accompanied with old age.

Morgana was utterly dismayed. What had caused him to age? Was it the rune cuffs? She managed to school her features into a look of glee as she turned to Rodolphus. "Why is he old?"

Rodolphus's grin widened into a sickening smile, his eyes dancing with sadistic pleasure as he answered, "I discovered something that I never thought possible."

"And that would be?"

"He can't die," Rodolphus announced almost like a Ringleader would in a circus as he declared a delightful act of a performer. "But his body seems to have an interesting effect to the killing curse. It took over fifty times but his body finally decayed into what you see now. I wonder if it will stay that way."

"You hit him with the Avada Kedavra over fifty times?" Morgana wondered, hoping her voice sounded curious instead of revolted.

"Along with other torturous spells," Rodolphus laughed. "I was playing with the idea of trying Fiendfyre in the morning."

Morgana wanted to rush forward and claw the man's eyes out. Instead she sent him a delightful smirk. "There will be time for further torture after we move him. We'll use the floo network; don't worry, I've magicked it so the Ministry won't be able to trace our movements. Use the words: Fawkham Green Cottage to get there. I want you to send several of the Death Eaters ahead to make sure my torture rooms are ready for our special guest. I'll join you after I have a quick word with this traitor."

Rodolphus didn't appear too happy about being dismissed but he inclined his head to her. "I'll be back in a moment. Try not to torture him too much while I'm gone. I'd love to see what Old magic you use on your enemies."

Morgana smirked. "I'm sure I can show you some things but not now. Hurry, our window is only so wide to move before the Ministry notices anything amiss."

Rodolphus left the room and only after the door was securely shut did Morgana drop her façade. She rushed to Merlin's side and held his ancient face in her hands. His blue eyes were still full of life but also filled with pain.

"Morgana," he rasped, his voice old and hoarse.

"Oh, Merlin," she cried, holding back tears. "What have they done to you?"

"What are you doing here?" he wondered.

Morgana's concern grew when she realized he didn't even have the strength to lift his head. She was solely supporting him. "We're going to rescue you, tomorrow, noonday. Can you play along until then?"

Merlin managed a small smirk. "I think so. I'm pretty good at pretending."

Morgana managed a strangled laugh, wiping her tears away just as the door started opening again. She hated what she was about to do but she had to make it look convincing. She slapped Merlin as hard as she could. Her hand stinging, she stepped back to gloat as he spit further blood from his mouth.

"The mighty Emrys," she laughed. "Tell me, how does it feel to be strung up without your precious magic to save you?"

"I don't know Morgana," Merlin humorlessly laughed, "you would know that more than me, seeing as you were trapped in that hole King Sarrum kept you in for two years."

Morgana snarled, forcing herself to hit him once more. "If you ever speak of that again, I'll cut out your tongue," she threatened. "Besides your magic, it's the most powerful tool you have. Tread carefully, Merlin. We wouldn't want you to lose everything so soon now would we? Don't worry; we'll make sure to provide you with the best accommodations. I'm sure that when we're through, you'll be begging for release." She turned to find Rodolphus and several Death Eaters staring at her with gleeful expressions. "Make sure those rune cuffs stay on," she advised, stepping out of the room. "We don't want to devoid him of our full generosity."

Rodolphus's grin was as wide as the Cheshire cat as he took it upon himself to cut Merlin down from the chain in the ceiling. The old warlock fell with a painful grunt but didn't get up; he didn't have the strength. Morgana watched as two other Death Eaters seized Merlin's arms and dragged him out of the room and up the stairs towards the fireplace. She inwardly cringed at the blood that stained the staircase as they went as well as the further bruising Merlin's legs would have from the abuse.

Swallowing her discomfort, she sent Rodolphus an evil smirk before leaving the basement and joining the others heading into the unsuspected trap at Fawkham Green.


	19. Chapter 19

**Over a hundred reviews?! You guys are awesome! Wow, thank you so much. Seriously. I really appreciate all the feedback and the love. I hope all of you will like where I take this. In honor of Comic Con, I give you the next chapter. Enjoy! :)**

 **disclaimer: Same as always. I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter.**

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19: Fawkham Green

Merlin was worried out of his mind as he was dragged from the fireplace into a house he'd never seen before. A black cat sat resting on the edge of the sofa, its eyes seeming to widen a fraction at the sight of him. His captors didn't allow him a chance to see much else, hauling him across the floor, down another set of stairs, into a basement with three rooms. The blood hadn't even had a chance to rush back into his arms before they were strung up again over his head in the first room on the left. After making sure he was secure – and kicking him for no good reason – the two Death Eaters left him alone to his racing thoughts.

What was Morgana thinking?! She didn't have magic anymore. Rodolphus Lestrange wasn't stupid. Since getting to spend more time with the man, Merlin had deduced that the only reason he'd captured him before was from surprise alone. Rodolphus was ruthless, cunning, and crafty. As he'd tortured him, he bragged to Merlin of his master scheme to expose magic to muggles by attacking heavily populated and well known landmarks, ensuring the Ministry's failure to wipe every memory and allowing the few to spread rumors. If enough memories remained, the rumors would incite panic and fear, weakening the populace and bringing the power of magic to the forefront. Lestrange was a strategic sadist and Merlin was afraid of what he would do if he found out Morgana was now one of those he wished to destroy.

She'd said there was going to be a rescue attempt. Though he was longing for that to be true, he was scared. He wasn't there this time to make sure Arthur and the others were safe. But maybe Arthur wasn't solely operating with the knights and Morgana? Perhaps he'd sought out the Order? That brought a little more comfort but it didn't completely satisfy him.

He silently cursed in frustration. This never would have happened if he hadn't allowed Lestrange to monologue. He had a bad habit of allowing his enemies the chance to talk before striking them. He couldn't help it though; he was one that always tried to reach out with words, hoping to find light within the darkness of the soul. He wasn't about to change that either. He'd never lose hope in men, not even when the world seemed cast in nothing but shadow. There was always light somewhere; sometimes you just had to look harder for it.

That brought his mind back to Morgana. She'd found her way back and what was the first thing she decided to do? Sacrifice herself! Merlin's stomach churned at the thought of what the Death Eaters might do if they saw through her ruse. They'd want her to use magic eventually. Could she hold up until noon when the rescue party was to come? Merlin prayed that she would.

He sighed and immediately regretted it as his broken ribs screamed in protest. At least in this room the chain was long enough for him to support some of his weight on the balls of his feet. Hopefully Rodolphus wouldn't notice; he'd magic the chain so it was higher in the ceiling if he did, Merlin was sure.

The door suddenly opened and the man himself walked in, a sneer of approval climbing his cheeks from the blood he noticed on the floor around Merlin's feet.

"It's seems your filthy blood will make a nice addition to what the Lady Morgana has already left behind," he mused. "It's a pity I didn't get to see her torture the poor soul that left the previous mess; I'm sure it would have been an entertaining spectacle."

"You're a sick man, Lestrange," Merlin croaked, his voice rough from lack of use and silent screams; he still hadn't allowed the man the pleasure of hearing his anguish.

"I'd prefer to see it as therapy," Rodolphus shrugged, "Which I'm actually desperately in need of. Tell me, did you enjoy the reprieve? I hope not because parting is oh sweet sorrow."

Before Merlin could gather his retort, the Cruciatus Curse slammed into his chest. Merlin's body wriggled in pain and he bit down again on his tongue to stop the scream from escaping his lips; if this carried on, he wouldn't have a tongue to bite. The curse lifted and Merlin was left gasping, his body supported entirely from his wrists again as the strength left his legs.

And thus resumed the torture session, Rodolphus laughing and taunting him with every spell and physical wound he inflicted. After what felt like hours, the curses finally ceased and blood freely trickled into Merlin's already stained beard.

"You know, I've been giving this a great deal of thought," Rodolphus sighed as he paced back and forth. "I have scarred you in more ways than any man I've ever had the pleasure to torture. It's been quite entertaining – except that I have yet to _break_ you. To hear you scream, to watch despair fill your ancient eyes, to see your body slumped in utter defeat."

"I hate to break it to you," Merlin chuckled weakly, "but I'm not planning to pursue a profession of entertainment in that kind of field any time soon."

Rodolphus lacerated him with a curse. Tears formed behind Merlin's eyelids as his skin ripped apart further than before, the new cut agitating the infected ones already crisscrossing his chest. Rodolphus frowned.

"Nothing?" he groaned. "Can't say I'm not surprised… but I have yet to explore the inspiration I received last night."

Rodolphus waved his wand. A long pole sprung from the ground, the wood coming between Merlin's shackled arms as the chain above lowered them and coiled around his body like a snake, securing him to the post. The ground which he stood on became boarded and his feet were suddenly surrounded by stacks of combustible materials. Merlin's heart constricted as he finally managed to find the strength to lift his head and stare horrified at Lestrange.

The man was going to burn him at the stake.

Besides losing Arthur and all he cared about, this was his biggest fear. It had definitely been his first. Sorcerers burned, his mother tearfully explained, and he needed to hide who he was or else the Knights of Camelot would take him away and consume him in fire. He'd seen so many of his kind in the position he was in now. He had witnessed the terror in their eyes, heard the screams as their flesh melted from their bones, while he stood in the crowd powerless. Now he was the one on a pyre.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, horrified.

Rodolphus's sick pleasure glinted in his eyes. "I've been too modern in my punishments for a man of your time. Every sorcerer of your age was terrified of being burned alive – you included, so it would seem. Oh, but I won't stop the fun there."

He waved his wand again and his image shimmered. Merlin blinked a couple of times as the room seemed to wave back and forth like it would during the hottest part of the day in a desert. When the room solidified again, Rodolphus was gone. Standing where he had been, his body clad in chainmail, his red cape securely over his shoulders, was Arthur.

Merlin would have cried out to him except for the fact that Arthur was staring at him with a look of deepest contempt and disgust holding a torch in his hand. It was the same expression he'd always envisioned his friend would have after revealing his magic. This was an illusion. A trick! Arthur would never look at him that way.

"I don't know what game you're playing at, Rodolphus, but this has to stop!" Merlin shouted, angry that the Death Eater would dare assume the form of his king.

"Silence, sorcerer!" Arthur snapped, stepping closer with his lighted torch. "You have been found guilty of practicing magic and enchantments and will suffer as all sorcerers do!"

"This isn't real," Merlin gasped, shaking his head. "Arthur is my friend! He would never do something like this!"

"Friend?" Arthur snarled, his eyes blazing with hatred. "How could I _ever_ consider you as such? You are a traitor and a liar! A _sorcerer!"_ He spat the last word as if it were poison from his lips.

And then Merlin watched in horror as his king tossed the torch at his feet. The fire burst into life around him at once, the tongues of flame licking eagerly at the material and at his clothes. Arthur turned his back on him and began walking away, and Merlin could not hold back the scream that ripped his throat.

"Arthur!" he shouted, struggling against his bonds. "Arthur, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

The flames licked at his legs, the heat searing into his flesh, but he only had eyes for his king. Then the unthinkable happened. Mordrid appeared, slicing his sword through Arthur's chainmail like butter directly over his heart. Mordrid removed the blade and didn't look back, disappearing into shadow. Arthur slowly turned to face Merlin, blood staining his chainmail through his fingers. The king opened his mouth to say something but only blood fell from his lips. He fell to his knees before dropping to the ground. Merlin watched the light leave Arthur's eyes right before the fire grew too high, shrouding him mercilessly in flame and despair from the view of his king. Merlin couldn't help it.

He screamed.

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Morgana's eyes flew open as a tortured scream rang from the basement below to the upper floors of the safe house. She'd gone to bed thinking that it would seem weird to the Death Eaters if she hadn't taken her rest; she didn't want to appear agitated. She hadn't planned to but she must have dozed off at some point. How could she have fallen asleep?! The scream that woke her intensified. Leaping out of bed, she rushed from her room and composed herself on the basement steps. McGonagall was right at her heels, her worry clear in her flickering tail.

The door to Merlin's cell was closed but his screams of anguish and pain rattled Morgana's eardrums as if she stood beside him. Two Death Eaters were posted at the door, evil smirks on their faces as Merlin's screaming intensified. What on earth was going on in there?!

Keeping her composure, Morgana approached and the two acknowledged her presence. "Care to explain whose brilliant idea it was to start the torture session without me?" she demanded, trying to put as much malice in her tone as she could.

"Apologies, my lady, but Rodolphus thought it best that you rest while he did the dirty work," the one on the right answered.

Morgana made her disapproval clear as she narrowed her eyes. "Open the door."

They didn't need telling twice. The door flew open to admit her and Morgana stepped in expecting to see Rodolphus doing something terrifying. What she found confused her. Rodolphus was leaning against the wall, his arms casually folded across his chest, with a gigantic grin on his face. Merlin was still hanging from the ceiling but he was thrashing back and forth uncontrollably, screaming and occasionally crying out Arthur's name.

"An illusion," she murmured, finally understanding.

"Attacking his mind, using his own fears against him; he's locked in a prison he doesn't realize is false. I should have thought of this sooner!" Rodolphus cruelly laughed.

He looked at her, expecting praise. Inwardly hating herself, Morgana smirked and nodded in approval. "I've done that to my enemies in the past but never with Merlin. The poor fool is probably living his worst nightmare."

"I don't know what it is but it finally managed to do what I could not," said Rodolphus gleefully over Merlin's screams.

"And what was that?"

"Break his spirit," the man smirked.

Morgana tried to keep her panic to herself as she haughtily folded her arms. "I doubt that he's broken just yet," she frowned. "Lift the enchantment and you'll see that the annoying fire will still be burning in his eyes."

Rodolphus's brow rose before he did as suggested. Merlin's screaming ceased as he realized he wasn't where he'd thought he'd been. His whole body shook, his ancient bones creaking in protest and agony.

"What did you do to me?" he gasped, his voice faltering from the torture it had endured.

"The mind is quite fun to manipulate, isn't it, Merlin," Rodolphus gloated. "I finally managed to break you."

The old warlock lifted his head and sure enough, through the pain, his eyes burned as Morgana had said. He must have bit his tongue at some point because when he spit in Rodolphus' direction the color was red. Morgana's eyes flashed with worry as Rodolphus scowled and drew out his wand.

"I guess another illusion is in order?" he glanced at Morgana.

Oh, how she wanted to take the man's wand, snap it in half, and shove the pieces into his eyes! It both amazed and disgusted her that she used to enjoy watching others in pain as he did. She was so grateful that she had grown up differently this time; she was able to see all her faults. She knew that the path Lestrange was on would never leave him with satisfaction. He'd always crave for something more. But she had to pretend that she still shared his glee for torture. She couldn't allow him to see through her mask.

Smirking, Morgana's eyes flickered to Merlin and then to Rodolphus. Striding over to the chained warlock, she brushed his face tauntingly with her thumb. Harrowed blue met silently concerned green as she studied him.

"I can't wait for the light to disappear from your eyes," she whispered just loud enough for Rodolphus to hear.

Merlin smiled weakly. "Then I'm afraid you're in for a world of disappointment," he croaked. "Torture me all you want but my spirit will not be broken."

Morgana sniffed out a laugh before twisting around and leaving the chamber. "Do me a favor, Rodolphus; place a silencing charm on the room. I'd rather not be bothered with the screams while I'm trying to sleep."

Rodolphus's evil sneer made her skin inwardly crawl. "With pleasure, my lady."

"Come Nyx," Morgana said to McGonagall. "Let's leave Merlin to get better acquainted with our friend."

The cat sent Merlin a piercing look before slinking out the door on Morgana's heels. The Death Eaters didn't even give McGonagall's disguise a second glance after they discovered she was supposedly the witch's companion; they knew better than to ask why Morgana would have such a beast trailing around with her. The door shut ominously behind the two as they walked past the Death Eaters up the basement stairs.

Morgana checked a clock on the wall. It was seven in the morning. _Just a few more hours, Merlin,_ she thought. _Hold on a little longer._ Wandering back into her room, she made sure to lock the door after McGonagall had followed her inside. It wasn't until the two women were alone that the former witch dropped her façade and collapsed onto the bed. Holding her head in her hands, she began to cry.

Once more she felt the guilt of her past as memories of torture inflicted by her hand paraded behind her closed lids. She had caused so much suffering then. So many people's lives had been broken because of her actions – and she had delighted in it! What on earth had driven her to such sick wickedness? And how could she live with herself now, knowing that Merlin was in immense pain and there was nothing she could do about it?

She felt a soft paw rest against her thigh and she peered through her fingers at the cat whose gaze was filled with concern and comfort. She smiled pathetically.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her eyes and trying to reel in her emotions. "I know I can't afford to show weakness. Not here. Are we sure that the others know we're here now?"

The cat nodded.

A trigger spell had been placed on the house that would have gone off the second the fireplace had been activated. That signal would have been sent to the Ministry who would then inform Arthur and the others that Merlin had successfully been moved. Now all they could do was wait.

"I hate this," Morgana whispered. Shivering, she drew her knees into her chest and held her head against them. "I don't want to be a monster again, professor," she quietly confessed. "What they're doing… what they've done… it's not human. I want no part in it. I lived it before and it was the worst. I know I have to be strong for Merlin, that I have to pretend, but it's so _hard!"_

Professor McGonagall rubbed her head against Morgana's side comfortingly. She didn't dare change forms even if the door was locked; they never knew who could burst in here at any moment. Morgana stifled her sob, dried her cheeks again, and replaced her mask. She drew from all the strength she possessed, building a wall that she refused to allow to break. She would hold until after Merlin was safe. Arthur would come, the nightmare would end, and she would be able to be with Gwaine. Before this day was done, everything would be okay again.

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Arthur was caught in a nightmare, witnessing a spectacle he never thought he'd see: Merlin was on a pyre.

He was burning!

And Arthur couldn't do anything!

No matter how hard he pushed, no matter how much energy he applied, his strides would never draw close enough to free his brother. He had to watch from afar as Merlin screamed his name while the flames relentlessly grew, his ash covered cheekbones wet with tears. He kept apologizing but Arthur didn't know why. All he could think about was reaching him! He tried shouting out to him, desperate for him to know that he was there, that he was trying to reach him, but his voice wouldn't come. Like his limbs, his voice was useless. The flames reached so high that Arthur could no longer see Merlin's body and then, with a scream of panic, the king's eyes flew open.

"MERLIN!"

"Arthur?! Arthur, are you alright?"

Arthur barely registered that he was in his bed next to Guinevere before he reflexively reached out and latched onto her, sobbing. He couldn't get Merlin's screams out of his head. His entire body was shaking, covered in sweat, as he clung to his love.

"Shhhh, I'm here," Guinevere soothed, rubbing his back and occasionally kissing his temple. "I'm here, Arthur."

Arthur shakily let go after he'd composed himself. Rubbing his eyes, he weakly flopped back onto his back, breathing heavily. Guinevere worriedly held his hand, stroking his forehead.

"Arthur?"

The king shook his head. "It was a nightmare," he muttered.

"About Merlin?" she guessed.

Arthur nodded, sitting up again to cradle his knees. "It was so real, Guinevere."

She scooted closer, enveloping him in her safe embrace. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodding. "He was on a pyre. There was nothing I could do, Guinevere. He was screaming and I couldn't reach him."

Guinevere tightened her hold. "It was nothing but a nightmare, Arthur. We would never allow that to happen to Merlin."

Arthur's fists clenched. "We have to get him back, Guinevere."

"We will."

The reverse painting of Camelot shimmered, catching Arthur's eye, just as the sound of a knock filled the room. Not entirely sure if anyone else could enter without him leading them inside, Arthur got out of bed and walked over to the painting. Taking a deep breath and shoving his insecurities aside, he stepped through it to find the hall filled with his knights and one of the Aurors – Trevor, if he remembered right.

"Sire," Leon greeted with a nod.

"Leon. What is it?"

"We wanted to inform you that the trigger spell was activated. Merlin was successfully moved."

Arthur's face filled with determination. "I want everyone gathered in the throne room in an hour so we can review exactly what needs to be done. We cannot afford to fail in bringing Merlin home. Make sure everyone is appropriately dressed for battle – in our case, the clothes Merlin gave us yesterday."

"Are you going to need help getting dressed, princess?" Gwaine teased.

Arthur finally realized he was in nothing but his trousers. Scowling, he twisted on his heel and started back towards the portrait. "I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, Gwaine!"

Stepping back into the painting he found Guinevere still sitting on the bed hugging a pillow to her chest. Her lower lip was captured between her teeth, her curly hair tangled freely around her worried face. Arthur walked over and sat down next to her, kissing her brow.

"Who was it?" she asked quietly.

"The knights. Merlin's been moved. I've asked the others to meet us in the throne room in an hour," Arthur explained as he walked over to the dressing partition and started changing into the clothes he'd thrown over it last night.

He heard Guinevere shifting off the bed as he yanked his shirt over his chest and donned his red jacket. When he was finished, he came around and found her already dressed, working on putting her long hair in a bun in front of her vanity. Arthur propped himself on the edge of the bed to slip into his boots.

"Guinevere, I know you and Freya want to come," he began hesitantly.

The queen sighed. "I know what you're going to ask, Arthur."

The young blonde raised a golden eyebrow. "You don't sound upset."

Guinevere turned around. Her eyes were smoldering, her face pulled into a remarkable scowl. Oh. She _was_ upset. Arthur fought to keep his anxiety hidden as she rose from her chair and folded her arms.

"Out of all of us Freya has a right to be there!"

"I know–"

"And Merlin is as much my brother as he is yours–"

"I know but–"

"Besides, Freya and I both have magical outfits just like you and the knights. We can handle ourselves!"

"That's not it!" Arthur snapped, standing up and grabbing her shoulders.

Guinevere's eyes widened in slight surprise but Arthur would not allow himself to be swayed from this. He tried to relax his tone as he rubbed her shoulders with his thumbs.

"Guinevere," he said gently, "Don't think for a second that I doubt your ability to take care of yourself. I've seen you fight, remember? But I can't afford to allow my concentration to be split between your safety and Merlin's - and Freya's," he added. "Don't ask it of me, my darling, _please."_

Tense shoulders relaxed as the fiery defiance left the queen's eyes. She wrapped her arms around Arthur's neck and bit back tears. "I just feel so useless," she muttered into his jacket.

Arthur kissed her forehead. "I think your unique skills can be utilized best by staying here. Think about it, Guinevere. Freya must be out of her mind with worry for Merlin. She's going to need someone to calm her down and if anyone can help relieve a person of a burden, it's you. I also want you to stay here to keep an eye on Gaius."

Guinevere managed a small chuckle. "That shouldn't be hard to do since he'll either be in the library or the Hospital Wing."

Arthur smirked. "Well, he is surrounded by centuries of knowledge he has to catch up on."

Guinevere let out a defeated sigh, kissing Arthur lightly on the lips. "Alright," she muttered, "I'll stay here with Freya and Gaius. But don't you dare come home without him, Arthur Pendragon, do you hear me? And you had better come back!"

Arthur lightly held her chin as he kissed her. "I'll be sure that we both make it home, Guinevere, I promise."

"Good," she muttered, nodding in approval. "And you'd better bring Morgana and McGonagall with you!"

Arthur kissed her knuckles. "Yes, my lady."

* * *

 **Nyx is the Greek Goddess of the Night. I thought it fitting to give Morgana's 'cat' such a name. So, what did you think? Leave a review please? :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or Disney**

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20: Freedom

Guinevere, Freya, Gaius, and a handful of the Hogwarts professors stood on the lower steps outside the great oak front doors to the castle. The knights and a gathered group of sorcerers were waiting for Arthur who was currently holding Guinevere's hands tenderly. An unspoken communication came between them and Arthur inclined his head to his queen, kissing her knuckles.

"Bring him home," she whispered.

Arthur nodded to her but his words were addressed to Freya on Guinevere's right. "I will."

Freya tried to hold back her tears. "Thank you, Arthur," she whispered, honoring him with a curtsey.

The king looked to Gaius. "Watch over our angels while we're gone."

"I'll do what I can, sire," Gaius promised. Arthur briefly patted his shoulder before turning to his men and giving the order to move out.

Guinevere and Freya stayed out in the cold while the older men and women went inside. Gaius seemed to sense that the two women needed a moment alone so he too disappeared behind the great oak doors. Neither queen nor former druid moved until Arthur's company was gone from view. It was then that Guinevere announced she was going to the lake and wondered if Freya would like to join her. The latter did without protest. When they were half way there, Freya let out a shaky breath, the vapor being seen in the cold December air.

Glancing her way, Guinevere reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Merlin is strong, Freya. He will return to us."

Freya allowed a small smile to filter through her worry. "I know. I'm sure Arthur will as well – along with the others." -A moment's pause- "I hope Morgana is alright."

"Me too," Guinevere admitted. "It seems kind of strange now…"

"It's strange for all of us," Freya said kindly. "She's known for being the vilest witch the world has ever known and yet at this very moment she's risking everything to help a friend."

"Just like how she was before she turned to evil practices," Guinevere commented.

"Indeed."

They finally reached the lake. The surface was completely frozen, the surrounding area covered in thick snow. The only reason they'd been able to get here at all was because a path had been paved earlier. Guinevere wondered who would take the time to do such a thing but she could hear a few Hogwarts students having a snowball fight in the distance; perhaps they used their magic to carve through the snow throughout the grounds. The queen was glad Hogwarts was open to them so they didn't have to spend the holiday alone. Thinking on it, she might have spent it alone herself if Arthur hadn't stumbled into her life. A small smile lit her face as she remembered him dropping his fork on the ground with slightly darkened cheeks the first time she met him. She giggled.

"What are you thinking about?" Freya asked.

"Something my mind frequently occupies its fantasies with."

"Ahhh," she grinned, "Arthur."

Guinevere nodded. "I was just thinking about how we first met – in this century."

Freya's eyes became distant as she glanced out at the lake, becoming lost in her own memories. Guinevere suspected she was thinking of her experiences with Merlin. The queen wrapped her arm around Freya's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're with him, Freya," she muttered happily. "In all the years I've known him, he looks happiest when he looks at you."

Freya's grin returned. "I don't know; Arthur sure gives me a run for first place."

Guinevere playfully swatted her arm before both were lightly laughing in the snow. Their giggles were interrupted, however, by a strong gust of wind that whipped the snow around them, nearly blasting them off their feet. Freya grabbed onto Guinevere's arm to steady herself as the snow started to settle.

"What was that?" Guinevere asked.

Freya didn't answer. She was looking past Guinevere's shoulder, her eyes wide. As the queen began to turn around, Freya fell onto her knees in the snow, her demeanor the epitome of servitude. That was when the queen noticed her. Standing tall in a robe of white that made the snow around her look gray, her blonde hair loosely braided over her thin shoulder, was the Triple Goddess. Guinevere had only seen her a handful of times but she was just as beautiful as she had always been. The goddess's elvish features softened into a smile, her eyes dancing like an ocean tide.

"Rise my Lady of Avalon," she instructed.

Freya slowly rose from the snow but kept her eyes averted in respect. "My Lady honors me with her presence."

The goddess's eyes softened. "You look well, Freya. My Emrys has been reunited with those he loves at last."

"Thank you," Freya whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "for granting the whispered request of our hearts."

The Triple Goddess widely smiled. "I reward those who faithfully serve the Old Religion. Emrys has gone above and beyond expectation. If anything, he deserves this – which is why I have come to see you."

Guinevere felt like she was intruding. "Um, should I leave?"

"That is not necessary Once and Future Queen," said the goddess. "You are meant to be a witness to this exchange."

"Alright," Guinevere muttered.

The goddess turned her attention back to Freya. "Freya, you have served me well. When Emrys's magic and love bound you to the lake, you became my Keeper of Avalon. When I brought you back into the world of men, I altered your soul with magic to change into a cat so your spirit would be able to continue my work as my Keeper."

"Why a cat though?" Guinevere interrupted.

"Cats take naps," the goddess shrugged as if that was all the explanation in the world.

Guinevere's brow furrowed. "I'm not following," she confessed.

Freya gasped. "I think I understand…"

"Go on then," the goddess prompted.

"When I would rest… I would feel like I was on a higher plain level, like my spirit could leave my body behind…"

The goddess was full-on grinning now. "A large portion of it, yes," she explained, "you essentially were given the gift of splitting your spirit in half: one to further serve my purposes and the other to keep your body alive until you could return. Once you completed the tasks I required, the blanket of ignorance was placed back over your mind, suppressing your actions in my service until you reunited with Emrys and the fog lifted."

"That's how I was able to save the younger Merlin a month ago," Freya muttered, her eyes lighting up with understanding. "I fell asleep as a cat and you sent half my spirit to the lake to heal him!"

The goddess nodded.

"But if Freya was just a spirit, how could we touch her?" Guinevere puzzled.

"When she remains in water, she has solid form, living or dead," the Triple Goddess answered. "But I am here now to change that."

"What?" Freya gasped.

"Do not misunderstand, I am not disappointed with your service," the goddess consoled. "You have been wonderful, my dear, but your time is over."

"Who is to take my place?" Freya wondered, concerned. "I do not wish for them to enter into such a responsibility unwillingly."

In response the goddess lifted her arm and Guinevere noticed something leave the snow covered branches of the tree they stood near. A fluttering of white wings changed into a whirl of snow and wind, a young woman emerging from the small cyclone with long white hair and bright yellow eyes.

Guinevere gasped in faint recognition. "You used to be Harry Potter's owl!"

"Hedwig," the woman reminded, her thin lips pulling upwards in an amused smile. "It is good to see the Once and Future Queen again; though I sense that you have not seen me in many, many years while I last met you two moons ago."

"Hedwig has spoken with Archimedes and both decided for her to take up the position as Avalon's Keeper," explained the goddess. "It would be rather poetic; the Gatekeeper of the Spirit World and the Gatekeeper of Avalon. The two realms are related after all."

"But will the two be able to see each other still?" Freya asked, concerned.

"We will," Hedwig smiled, touched by the woman's thoughtfulness. "Unlike you and Merlin, Archimedes and I are not separated by the mortal realm."

"This way you can remain with Emrys for the rest of your life," said the Triple Goddess. "Of course, you have the option of no longer turning into a cat at will."

Freya shook her head. "I think I like that part of my life now – since it's not a curse."

"But wait," Guinevere interrupted again, "Merlin is still immortal and Freya won't be if she is no longer the Lady of the Lake."

"An astute observation, Future Queen," the goddess commended. "Do not worry for Emrys. His fate will be known soon."

That didn't comfort the queen at all. She was about to demand a further explanation when the Triple Goddess raised her hands and whispered a spell. Snow swirled around both Hedwig and Freya, dancing about them like a loosely coiled spring. Sparkles of blue magic slowly started leaving Freya's body, joining the winding snow around her but while the snow traveled upward, the sparkles traveled down. They collected into a puddle at Freya's feet, Guinevere watching in silent awe. When the last fell into the small pool, it began trickling like a brook across the snowy ground towards Hedwig. Yellow eyes hid behind pale lids as the puddle broke again into sparkles, traveling upward with the twisting snow until the pool was gone. The sparkles then flew with rapid speed into Hedwig's body and the woman gasped, her eyes opening to glow with magic.

Freya let out a sigh of contentment before her lids slid closed and she began to tip backwards. Guinevere caught her, alarmed. "Freya!"

"She will be fine, Future Queen. She simply needs rest," the Triple Goddess assured, assessing Freya with fond eyes. "I will dearly miss her company. She is a fit companion for my Emrys. Take care of her."

"I will," Guinevere promised, holding Freya protectively. "Do you promise that Merlin will be alright?"

The Triple Goddess only smiled before both she and Hedwig disappeared in a flurry of snow. Guinevere frowned. Should she trust the goddess? Her few interactions with the deity weren't enough to reassure her but Merlin had met the woman on many occasions after their return from the future and he said that despite her occasional bouts of mischief, she was a good entity.

Sighing, the queen turned her attentions to the woman currently nestled in her arms. It wouldn't due to stay out in the cold much longer but she didn't think she'd have the strength to carry Freya all the way back up to the castle; it was a long walk and the snowy ground was not the most ideal surface to trudge upon. Maybe if she made it to where the Hogwarts students were playing, she could enlist their help? Decision made, Guinevere's face filled with determination as she gathered Freya into her arms and propelled herself to her feet. Grunting a little from the extra weight, the queen turned towards the castle and started making her way back.

[][][]

Arthur and the others were on the edge of the forest of Fawkham Green, having just finished reviewing their plan of attack. Dorian said the safe house was twenty yards into the forest. Arthur sent several magical men and women -along with Percival and Leon- to scout the area and take down anyone lurking in the woods; their orders were to stun not kill. Having grown up in this time, Arthur now understood what Merlin had once warned him of: unlike the past, here you were hunted down by the law for killing anyone, be they bandit or not. The king saw the wisdom of leaving the fate of their enemies in the hands of a court of justice even if that left him a little upset not being able to do so himself. He was a king after all, albeit an ancient one most considered fictitious.

A small spark of green was seen in the trees from multiple locations and Harry whispered, "That's the signal."

"On me," Arthur muttered, sliding his sword from his belt. He stealthily crept into the woods, the others following behind him.

After the snapping of several twigs, Dedalus Diggle had the sense to cast a silencing charm on everyone's feet. Arthur sent him an appreciative nod which made the small wizard display a large toothy grin. They reached the perimeter of the house and took up their positions behind the trees. Arthur had to admit that the place looked like a complete dump. Never would he imagine someone living here; it looked like one breath of wind could knock it clean over. Merlin was in there; he could feel it.

Arthur inclined his head to Harry who immediately left his cover in the woods. The others stalked up behind him, all of them gathering in a large group. Harry casually slipped his wand from his pocket and marched up the wooden steps. Taking two deep breaths, he raised his hand and started knocking furiously on the door.

The wooden door was yanked open and a rather annoyed Death Eater stood there with their wand raised and a curse half formed on their lips. Their eyes widened in shocked surprise as Harry waved at them.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. _"Stupefy!"_

The poor sod went down with his face still stretched in surprise. Harry leapt over the man's body, charging into the house without warning. Arthur was the first to break from the gathered group, following Harry's lead. It wasn't much of a contest, really. There were only ten Death Eaters lounging in the living room and none of them were prepared for the onslaught of Aurors and Order members rushing into a place they thought was safe.

Arthur ran into the room and was immediately hit by a jet of green light square in the chest.

"NO!" Harry shouted, twisting around to see the king fall back into the wall. He rushed over, frantically turning Arthur over while the others ran past, spells flying every which way, blasting the walls, furniture, and décor to bits.

"I'm alright," Arthur wheezed, sitting up painfully.

"But, that was a killing curse," Harry muttered, confused.

"And these clothes were magicked by Merlin, remember?" Arthur smiled weakly.

Harry's green eyes lit up with remembrance. "Right, Old trumps New," he smirked, relief evident in his eyes.

"Exactly," Arthur grinned. "Come on, the others can take care of the Death Eaters. We need to find Merlin."

Harry nodded, helping Arthur to his feet. Wizard and King made their way down the hall, passing Dorian and Leon who signaled with a nod that they would handle things up here. Ducking to avoid another spell which slammed into the wall, destroying the surface instantly, Arthur hurried down the hallway only to collide with a rather flustered Morgana.

"Morgana!" Arthur cried, latching onto her in relief.

"Arthur!" she gasped, holding him tight, her relief just as evident. "I thought you'd never get here. It's horrible – Merlin –"

"Where is he?" Arthur demanded.

She pointed to a doorway just behind her, "This way," she said. Professor McGonagall emerged from her cat form and, with a curt nod to the king, chased Morgana down the stairs.

Arthur and Harry followed just behind, the former taking two steps at a time. Stopping in front of a rather large heavy door, Morgana took a deep breath and threw it open. Immediately Arthur's ears filled with a sound that caused his body to physically _ache._ Merlin's tortured screams of anguish ripped through him like wildfire, puncturing his soul with deep wounds. If that wasn't agonizing enough, the sight that met the king's eyes stopped his breath and skewered his heart.

Dragoon the Great hung from the ceiling by his bleeding wrists, his ancient body visible through a shirt that mostly lay in torn shambles across his person. Purple bruises and deep bleeding cuts lacerated his exposed chest, arms, and face. His legs had also suffered, the tortured skin seen through multiple slash marks that looked horrifyingly like the cause of a whip.

"I think that you've had enough fun for one day, Lestrange," Morgana shouted over the heart wrenching noise escaping from the old man.

Dragoon's screaming halted as his torturer lowered his wand, chuckling softly. "Would you like to have your fair share now, my lady?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked.

Arthur recognized the man as the one Merlin had once kidnapped and interrogated during their hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes. He was responsible for all of this?! For Merlin's torture?! Arthur's vision went red and his blood boiled, his entire body trembling with insurmountable fury. His fingers curled so hard around the hilt of Excalibur that they began to ache but the king didn't notice. The only thing in his mind was liberating his brother from his captor. With a bloodcurdling cry, the king rushed into the room.

Rodolphus whipped around in surprise, his mouth drawn open in a silent 'oh'. Cold fury raged behind the king's grey-blue eyes and his mind was a hurricane as he closed the distance between him and the Death Eater. Just as he thrust back his arm to run the tormentor through his voice of reason broke through his troubled thoughts.

"ARTHUR! STOP!"

And immediately the king froze, his sword point mere inches from slicing through Rodolphus's chest. The Death Eater recovered quicker than the king, flicking his wrist and sending the royal flying into the far wall. Arthur's head smacked against the stone and all the breath left his body as he groaned, falling onto his side.

"Arthur!" Morgana cried in concern, rushing over and gently lifting him up so his head rested in her lap.

Arthur found himself smirking. "Didn't know… you cared…" he wheezed.

Morgana let out a weak, relieved laugh, "Your hot head is going to be the death of you someday."

Arthur laughed weakly but it turned into a cough.

"Lady Morgana?" Rodolphus muttered, assessing the situation in disbelief. Morgana and Arthur looked over at him just in time to see reality dawn. _"Traitor!"_ he cried, lashing out with his wand.

"NO!"

Professor McGonagall reacted without thinking. Rushing forward, she leapt protectively in front of Morgana and the green jet of light from Rodolphus's wand slammed into her chest. Arthur watched with horror as the fierce woman fell gracefully onto the floor, her expression still one of determined fire and bravery even though her eyes no longer burned with life.

An animalistic roar echoed around the room as Harry charged forward, slashing his wand through the air towards Rodolphus. A jet of red seared, reflected in the Death Eater's eyes before he was blasted off his feet, smacking into the wall. Tears fell freely down Harry's ferocious face, his eyes burning with hatred and righteous anger over his fallen mentor. Morgana clung to Arthur, her gaze frozen on the woman who had just taken a killing curse for her. Arthur peered over Morgana's trembling shoulder to see Harry kick Rodolphus's wand away and stunning the man into unconsciousness.

Arthur slightly shook Morgana but her gaze would not deviate from the woman lying dead on the floor. "Morgana? Morgana, are you alright?"

"She… she saved me…" Morgana gasped. "Why would she…do that…?"

And then Morgana was sobbing into Arthur's shoulder, holding his neck and crying freely into his jacket. It had been eons since Arthur had found Morgana crying on him like this. He almost didn't know what to do. But then instinct took over and he wrapped his arms around her. Words didn't need to be expressed. What worth would they be anyway?

Arthur glanced at Harry who, after securing Rodolphus with strong cords, was kneeling over Professor McGonagall's body. His fists were curled in his lap, his head was bowed, and his shoulders trembled while tears silently flowed down his cheeks.

It was then that Merlin coughed and Arthur remembered exactly what they were here for. Cursing himself, he gently removed Morgana from his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, searching her face.

Morgana wiped her tears. "I'll be fine. I'm sorry. Tend to Merlin. He needs you now."

Arthur assessed her one last time before gently slipping away and rushing over to his best friend. He stopped short. Up close the cuts and bruises were so much worse and after further inspection Arthur suspected broken bones were also involved. Dropping Excalibur, he shakily lifted a hand and rested it upon Merlin's old face, lifting it up to see the warlock's eyes.

They sparked with life and a smile lifted the wizened cheeks. "It's… about time… you showed up… prat."

Arthur didn't realize he was crying until his throat wrenched out a sob. "Oh, Merlin, what have they done to you?"

Merlin didn't answer because he didn't have the energy. Anger built up in the king and he bent down, picked up Excalibur, and sliced through the chain holding Merlin in place like it was made of butter. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Merlin started to fall, but Arthur caught him with his free arm. With expert skill, the king sheathed his sword and then hoisted Merlin off his feet into his arms. Merlin cried out in pain as Arthur shifted him into a more comfortable position.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"S'okay," Merlin slurred, his old eyelids flickering. "I know you didn't mean to."

The warlock was burning up! Arthur didn't need to be a doctor to know that Merlin's fever was not a good sign. Combine that with his age, the purple bruises, and the atrocious amount of lacerations; Arthur was eternally grateful in that moment for Merlin's immortality. He would have died had he not had that curse! No doubt the man was in serious need of medical treatment but those wretched cuffs were still chaffing into his severely bleeding wrists!

"Merlin, tell me what I should do," Arthur panicked, assessing his friend's weak breathing. Several ribs were broken, he was sure of it! "I need to get you to Gaius but those cuffs need to come off."

"No!" Merlin cried fearfully, upsetting his internal bruises. After gasping in pain, he rasped, "We both know what happens when the cuffs are removed."

"I won't see you in chains forever, Merlin," Arthur snapped, trying to fight the lump in his throat. "Those are coming off. But what should we do first? Should I take you to Gaius or should we go somewhere remote to remove the cuffs."

"Arthur," Merlin wheezed, weakly shaking his head, "no one can be near me when they come off. If regular sorcerers knock out their captors, my magic could very well kill everyone and everything in the vicinity! I won't let you remove them."

"I'm the king, Merlin! You can't tell me what to do!" Arthur cried brokenly, his voice just as weak.

It was as he said these words that the knights and several others stormed into the room.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted, the first to overcome his shock.

"No!" Tonks and Hermione gasped at the same time as they saw who it was Harry and now Morgana were mourning over on the floor.

"She saved me," Morgana whispered brokenly as the two women joined them. "It was Rodolphus. I didn't think she would..."

Tonks put a comforting hand on Morgana's shoulder as Hermione cried into Harry's.

The knights formed a tight circle around the king who still held Merlin protectively against his chest.

"What _happened_ to him Arthur?" Elyan cried in dismay.

"Nice to see you too, Elyan," Merlin croaked in his old voice.

"Merlin," Lancelot muttered, the one word lacing all of his concern.

"We need to get him treated," Leon stated, level-headed.

"But what about the rune cuffs?" Percival pointed out. "Those need to come off."

"No!" Merlin cried, cradling his chained arms against his and Arthur's chests. His blue eyes filled with desperation. "Please, Arthur," he whispered brokenly, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Arthur ignored the pain in his chest from the plea. "Merlin, that's not going to happen, I promise. We'll go somewhere remote–"

" – you'll be there," Merlin interrupted.

"Yes," Arthur reluctantly admitted.

"I'll hurt you!" Merlin cried, horror in his ancient face.

"No you won't," Arthur said confidently.

"You can't know that," Merlin argued.

"He's right, Sire," Leon reluctantly admitted, "we have no idea how Merlin's magic will react."

"I will not allow him to live the rest of his life like this Leon!" Arthur snapped, his eyes blazing. "No! I will not hear another word of this! If I have you healed, Merlin, you will fight me more than you are right now so we're removing these infernal things first."

"No," Merlin whimpered.

Arthur – painfully – ignored him. "I need someone to take us away from here, just Merlin and myself. Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it," Harry offered, his cheeks now dry.

"Are you sure, Potter?" asked Adaline.

Harry nodded, his eyes filled with determination. Arthur inclined his head in acceptance. The wizard walked over, stopping in front of them.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Somewhere isolated, away from people," Arthur replied distractedly; Merlin had started to struggle a little in his arms in protest. "Stop _fidgeting,_ Merlin!"

Hermione stepped forward. "I think I know of a place. Hang on." Perplexed, Arthur watched as the witch then bent down and removed her shoe. Tapping it with her wand, she muttered, _"Portus."_

The shoe trembled, emitting a soft blue glow, before settling back into her hand once more.

"Brilliant, Hermione!" Harry praised as she held it out to him.

"Um, sorry, but what exactly was that supposed to do?" asked Gwaine, voicing the confusion of the knights.

"Portkey," Merlin muttered. "It's an object that allows you to transport great distances but you need to be with someone magical in order to use it."

"And you usually need authorization in order to make one," Trevor scolded with his arms folded.

Hermione blushed a little. "I figured that, due to the circumstances…"

"Relax, Hermione, I'll make sure Trevor doesn't write you up," Tonks grinned, slapping the offended man on the back. Trevor scowled at her.

"Right," Hermione muttered, holding out the shoe again. "It'll take you to a national park in Iceland."

"Iceland!" Elyan protested. "But, how will they get back?"

"We'll deal with that when it comes," said Arthur. "Let's go."

"It'll activate in a moment," Hermione warned, passing the object to Harry.

Just as Harry grabbed Arthur's shoulder, the portkey activated. Arthur felt himself suddenly jerked irresistibly forward as his feet left the ground. He could feel Harry bang against his shoulder while Merlin jostled a little in his arms. They were speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color, like being pulled magnetically onward…

They retouched the earth and Harry broke away from Arthur, stumbling. Arthur fell back with Merlin on top of him, his lungs heaving for air. He felt like he'd just experienced the equivelant of a roller coaster traveling at the speed of light. Slightly nauseous, the king groaned and slowly sat up, cradling a very distraught Merlin.

"I hate portkeys," the warlock grumbled. "They make me feel sick."

Arthur actually chuckled. "Now you know how I feel every time you bring me on a transporting journey."

Merlin groaned.

Harry shakily got back to his feet, glancing at Hermione's shoe which was lying harmlessly amidst a thin blanket of snow. "Now what?"

Arthur looked around, finally assessing where they were. Hermione had done beautifully. They were in the middle of a wilderness surrounded by rolling hills, distant mountains, a far-off lake, and rocky, snowy terrain. The sky above was a soft glowing pink; Arthur briefly recalled a show he once watched that said Iceland only experienced about four hours of daylight in the winter. They'd arrived at a good time and the scenery was breathtaking.

"Arthur?" Harry prompted.

The king shook himself from admiring the beauty around him. "Sorry," he muttered. "Right, Harry, you need to leave."

"But –"

"Merlin's magic might hurt you if you stay," Arthur interrupted.

"It might hurt _you!"_ Merlin protested from the ground, which was slowly turning blood red beneath him.

Ignoring him, Arthur pointed at Hermione's shoe. "Will that take you back to the others?"

"Yes," Harry said hesitantly.

"Then go," Arthur insisted.

"But what about you two?" Harry protested further. "Even if you survive, Merlin is going to need medical treatment and you won't have a way to get back."

Arthur smiled. "When Merlin's magic is released he should be able to heal himself enough to get us back."

"You sure have a lot of faith in that!" Merlin spat angrily, groaning. "I might end up killing you!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Harry, go. Don't worry about us."

The young wizard inwardly debated the pros and cons, shifting back and forth on his feet. Sighing, he let out a defeated sigh. "Fine, but if we don't see you in twenty four hours I'm coming back here."

"Alright," Arthur agreed.

Green eyes flickered back and forth at either blue before Harry bent down and clasped Merlin on the shoulder. "Get better, Merlin," he muttered. "The Wizarding World needs you… I…"

Merlin lifted his shackled wrists to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I understand, Harry," he muttered. "I'm not going anywhere this time."

The young wizard nodded. Arthur decided to overlook how Harry quickly wiped at his cheeks before standing up. "Right… good luck then," he said, clasping Arthur's forearm.

Arthur sent him one last nod before the teenager wandered over to the portkey. As soon as he touched it he was gone. A slight breeze wrapped around them and Merlin started shivering violently. Arthur cursed himself for leaving Merlin practically shirtless in the snow. How could he have been so thoughtless? Hastily removing his red jacket and ignoring the biting cold that snipped at his naked arms, Arthur quickly wrapped Merlin inside it.

"A-Arthur," Merlin gasped, his teeth knocking together, "how do you know this will e-even work?"

The king studied him a moment before gently reaching over and taking one of Merlin's hands. "You once said that your magic was mine," he said softly. "Is that still true?"

The pain left Merlin's face as he relished the brotherly affection coming from his king. His gaze softened. "You know it is," he whispered.

Arthur squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Then I have all faith that it won't hurt me."

"I've used it to knock you out before," Merlin weakly protested.

"Merlin, you and I both know that you have never truly hurt me with your magic," the king countered. "I have all faith in you. I'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine."

Merlin took a haggard breath before nodding softly. Holding out his shackles, he calmly requested, "Free me, my king."

Arthur's gaze was soft as he slowly removed Excalibur and snaked it carefully beneath each cuff, the blade resting against Merlin's inner wrists. It barely fit. Merlin hissed a little from the contact of the metal with his broken skin but he sent Arthur a reassuring glance that he was alright.

Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur with both hands. "Ready?" he asked.

Merlin nodded.

Arthur took a deep breath. This was it. There was a chance that this could all go wrong, that Arthur's gut instinct might just be a fool's hope, but his determination to do as his warlock had asked conquered his fears. Arthur tightened his jaw and yanked upward. The magical sword cut through the enchantments and metal with a resounding clang, the cuffs slipping from Merlin's skin and falling with finality onto the ground. The momentum of Arthur's upward swing caused the king to reel backwards into the snow.

Through his disorientation, Arthur saw Merlin's eyes transform into liquid gold.

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 **(Hides behind something sturdy in case people try to run her through) Reviews please? a terrified voice asks.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Wow! What a response to the last chapter! Seriously, thank you all so much for reviewing! I know I left it at a horribly excellent cliffy but this chapter ends happy, I promise. Don't worry, it's not the last one either. Well, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or Disney.**

* * *

21: Evanescent

The air exploded as a sound similar to a finale in a fireworks show rattled Merlin's eardrums. His magic was flying from his body with such force that he was petrified of not only sending Arthur careening hundreds of feet from him but leveling the vast mountains surrounding them to the ground. Panicked, the warlock found his king and let out a breath of relief. Arthur was fine. In fact, the king had an almost childlike wonder on his face, his blue eyes lighting up with awe as he surveyed the land around them. Desirous to know what exactly his king was looking at, Merlin glanced around.

His mouth dropped open.

The shockwave of his magic was paving the land in a golden glow, changing the very surface in the blink of an eye. Where there had once been cold, biting, frozen snow, now stood rich, inviting, green grass. Wildflowers had sprouted up from the earth, their full petals almost glowing in vibrancy, their long stems dancing in a gentle warm breeze. The orange sky reflected off the distant lake with crystal clarity, the once frozen surface now shimmering freely in the dull light. Butterflies shot out from amidst the tall grasses sporting every color of the rainbow, honeybees following in their wake, the insects dancing happily about the various flowers in the vast field.

The very air permeated with the sweet, familiar, and loving embrace of Merlin's magic and the warlock couldn't stop the large grin from climbing all the way to his eyes. This was not what he had expected in the slightest.

"Well, well, you've really outdone yourself this time, haven't you Merlin?" said someone behind him.

Merlin and Arthur both jumped, turning around simultaneously to find a skinny young man leaning against a rather thick staff, his amber eyes dancing under a pair of thick brown eyebrows. His light brown locks were slightly tousled about his head and his nose -sharp like a beak- sat over a slightly teasing smirk.

Merlin's eyes filled with tears. It had been many years since he had laid eyes on this man and his heart swelled with affection as he rushed forward, throwing his arms around the thin newcomer's neck.

"Wow! Easy, Merlin! What are you trying to do, strangle me?"

Merlin only laughed, pulling away to wipe his eyes. Arthur, a grin matching that of his Court Sorcerer's, strode forward and energetically shook the man's hand.

"It's good to see you, fickle feathers," he said.

A snort came in response. "I hate to admit it, but it's good to see you too, idiot king."

"Archimedes, what are you doing here?" Merlin wondered. "Not that I'm not glad to see you – I just wasn't expecting…"

Archimedes grinned. "It must be so weird for you, Merlin."

"What?"

"Your life," the former owl said with a shrug.

Merlin laughed, running a hand through his ebony locks. "It definitely didn't turn out the way I expected."

"For me, it's only been about a month since I last saw you but you are so much older than the man I said goodbye to. Same goes for you Arthur – well, your spirit at least; your body is only twenty four."

"Do I even want to know how you know my age?" Arthur asked.

Archimedes grinned. "One of the perks of being the new Cailleach," he winked. He looked around at the field now pulsating with pure magic, his eyes softening. "Remarkable."

Merlin caught his glance and smiled. "I didn't plan that."

Archimedes chuckled. "Of course you didn't. I bet you were expecting to blow up all of Iceland?"

"Well…"

Archimedes snorted. "Figures. Have you learned nothing in all your decades of life?"

"Hey! I have more knowledge in my head than both you and Arthur put together!"

"That may be true but you're so much of an idiot that you don't use it, _Mer_ lin," Arthur teased, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I agree with the Future King on this one," Archimedes smirked.

Merlin scowled, folding his arms defiantly.

"I bet you didn't even realize that your magic not only healed the land but your body as well," the Gatekeeper continued.

Merlin blinked and looked down at his bare chest visible between the opening of Arthur's jacket. There wasn't a mark on him. In fact, not only was he healed but he felt as if he'd slept for a week. His magic pulsing beneath his veins was flowing happily, spreading a feeling of contentment from the surface of his skin all the way to his very bones. He closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction.

"I don't understand though," Arthur muttered, "why didn't Merlin's magic destroy everything when it was released?"

"The state of a person's magic is tied with their heart," Archimedes answered. "Merlin's heart is pure and therefore so is his magic. All the sorcerers you bound in the past had evil hearts, exposing you only to the dark instead of the light."

"Well, let's be grateful for that then," Arthur chuckled, relieved.

Merlin bumped his shoulder. "I thought you had more faith in me."

The king grinned. "Shut up Merlin."

"Anyway," Archimedes interrupted, "I'm here to pass along a message."

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "A message? From who?"

Archimedes slowly raise his right hand. **_"Ahreddan galdere fram undeadlicnes."_**

His eyes flashed a brilliant shade of gold and a pillar of light erupted around Merlin, encasing him within a bluish glow. Merlin let out a gasp of surprise as the magic reached into every pore of his body, filling every inch of him. Then it began to pull away, like the gentle draw of a needle removing blood from the body except the substance being removed from his skin wasn't red but gold. The golden matter was fluid, almost translucent, and spiraled around the pillar of blue light until it consumed it. Merlin fell to his knees, his body weakened from the ordeal, as the pillar disappeared.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried in alarm, rushing to his side. Protectively wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Arthur glared at Archimedes. "What did you do to him?"

"Arthur," Merlin gasped, his hand reaching up to placate his friend, "I'm okay."

For he truly was. His body may have been tired out from the extraction but it wasn't hurt. The burden that Merlin had become so accustomed to had finally left his shoulders and for the first time in his life, he felt like everyone else. He thought that he had experienced freedom when Arthur learned who he really was but apparently he was wrong. _This,_ this _feeling!_ The door to his cage had been opened and Merlin had been granted something he never thought he'd ever have. Tears pooled in his eyes and his heart soared as he looked past Arthur's concerned face to Archimedes.

"Why?" he whispered. He hadn't intended to say that; he'd wanted to say thank you. But he needed to understand.

"Why _what?_ " Arthur demanded worriedly.

Archimedes' smile was large, his eyes dancing with his own tears. "You have reached the beginning of the end, my friend. Only one lifetime is required to accomplish the last of your destiny."

"What rubbish are you talking about?" asked Arthur, severely lost and very angry because of it.

Merlin's chest heaved and he couldn't stop the sobs from escaping his throat. He latched onto a bewildered Arthur and cried, his tears soiling the king's light shirt. He couldn't believe it. Was this really happening?

"Merlin! What the heck is going on?!"

"Arthur?"

The king's eyes flashed dangerously towards the new Cailleach. "What?"

"Take care of him," Archimedes said fondly, his eyes soft. "I'll see you both again one day."

Merlin gasped through his tears, yanking himself from Arthur's chest. "You're leaving?" he cried.

Archimedes smiled. "We will meet again, Merlin, in the end."

And then he was gone, his body disappearing in the blink of an eye. The tranquil peace settling around Merlin's soul was shattered as Arthur bellowed in his ear.

"Would you mind explaining to me what on earth is going on?!" the king demanded, his blue eyes raging with inner irritation.

Renewed tears of joy fell from Merlin's eyes as he smiled at his king. "Arthur," he laughed, "I'm _free."_

"Free? From what?"

 _"I'm no longer immortal!"_ Merlin revealed and his heart leapt as the words danced off his tongue. "Don't you see, Arthur? I'm capable of dying! No longer will I have to roam this forsaken wasteland while those I love grow old and die! I won't have to watch you or anyone else fade away from me again!"

Arthur's eyes widened as understanding began to lighten the bluish orbs. "You mean… are you saying…?"

Merlin nodded, his full-on smile now matching that of his king's. "This is the beginning of the end: _my_ end."

Arthur let out a breath of laughter which soon turned into full out relieved mirth as he threw his arms around Merlin's neck. "You'll grow old," he rejoiced in Merlin's ear.

"I'll grow old," Merlin whispered, his heart light, "with you, Arthur. With everyone."

Arthur's eyes were just as wet as he pulled out of the embrace, the warmth, love, and amusement in them dancing in plain sight. "Looks like we're going to have to be extra careful from now on, Merlin," he grinned, "Wouldn't want you dying on us before we could see you naturally grow into Dragoon, now would we?"

Merlin let out a roar of laughter and Arthur soon joined him. For the longest time, neither of them could stop.

[][][]

After restoring the terrain to its natural, wintery habitat, Merlin turned to Arthur, his eyes still dancing. "Well, I'd say it's time to go home, wouldn't you?"

Arthur's wide grin began to lessen. "Wait; Merlin, if I remember correctly, you once told me that we couldn't transport long distances."

"And that would be correct," Merlin said, "seeing as your non-magical self would deteriorate from being exposed to such raw magic while traveling in such a way over continents. Heck, even sorcerers have a difficult time doing that."

Arthur started to grimace a little. "So then… we're flying back to Britain, aren't we?"

Merlin chuckled. "Does your reincarnated self hate heights just as much as the old?"

Arthur scowled, folding his arms. "I'll have you know that I enjoy amusement park rides just fine!"

"Then what's the difference?" Merlin teased.

"Oh I don't know, how about the secure strap that keeps you in place?!"

The warlock chuckled, his eyes flashing in silent amusement. "I can magic a strap that keeps you secure if it'll make you feel better."

Arthur grumbled some unintelligible words but his glare was loud enough for Merlin to know this was the only way the king would be willing to travel over the ocean on dragonback. Walking a good distance away from his friend, Merlin allowed himself to tap into the feral magic deep within his core. His body bent forward, stretching and growing as he fell on all fours. A sigh of pleasure escaped his now razor sharp teeth as he stretched his enormous wings. Slithering around, he turned his draconic eyes on his now much smaller king.

"I'll never get over how small you are when I'm like this," he teased, his dragon voice slightly deeper than his human's.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You said that practically every time you phased, Merlin. For all that wisdom you self acclaim to have one would think you intelligent enough to come up with a different greeting. At least one thing hasn't changed in all these years. You're still an idiot."

"And you're still a prat," the dragon laughed, lowering his head.

Arthur reached out and patted Merlin's long slender snout, a distant look in his sky blue eyes. "You know, the last time you were like this… we were marching off to war."

"That was a dark day," Merlin muttered, his eyes overshadowed with long-ago memories.

The corner of the king's mouth rose a little as he thought of happier times before that dreadful battle. "I still remember when everyone first learned of your new talent. Alined's face!"

Merlin let out an amused snort, smoke wafting from his large nostrils. "The poor fool. We can't blame him though; when you said you were coming for a visit I don't think he anticipated you arriving on a dragon!"

"Nor said dragon turning back into my recently dismissed manservant!" Arthur laughed.

"Yes, I do recall," Merlin mused, "that happened shortly after we returned from the future. You told me that I was no longer allowed to be your manservant. That was rather unfair."

"After everything you'd gone through, I wasn't going to let you continue to have such a status, Merlin," Arthur gently chided. "And that still stands true today. You're my Court Sorcerer, my First Advisor, and most importantly, my brother. I will not have you washing my socks and mucking out my stables – not when you've done more than any man alive for my wellbeing."

Merlin pushed him gently with his snout, his large blue eyes shining. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm happy to be your servant, Arthur, until the day I die."

The brotherly affection radiating from the king's eyes was deeper than any bond he shared with any other alive as he appraised his friend. "I know, my friend. And I stand by what I started to say in response to that: I'm happy to be your king until the day I die."

Merlin's toothy grin was large. "I'd prefer you as my prat rather than my king, I think."

"I think I prefer you as my idiot rather than my servant," Arthur laughed, swatting Merlin's snout. He then became apprehensive. "So, are we going to stand around here in the frozen tundra or are we going to head back to Camelot?"

"I'm ready to go when you are," Merlin replied as he began to lower himself so Arthur could climb on.

As Arthur moved towards him with a reluctant scowl, an idea popped into the dragon's head. He hadn't thought of it before (probably because Aithusa and Kilgharrah had said repeatedly that dragons weren't horses) but the idea of having Arthur travel across the ocean with nothing but his own grip to keep him from falling caused Merlin to forego those beliefs. Besides, he hadn't been born a dragon and his king's safety was more important to him than a reputation. His mind made up, his eyes flashed gold; a magnificent harness of strong leather and metal wrapped around the base of his neck across his chest and under his powerful front arms.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise as his wandered over and fingered the harness Merlin had made. The craftsmanship of the saddle was undeniably beautiful and the familiarity of stirrups for his feet and reigns -connected to a leather collar around Merlin's neck- greatly calmed his anxiety. But he was still hesitant.

"Um, Merlin," he paused. "Is this… appropriate?" Merlin's eyebrow raised a fraction in inquiry. "I mean," Arthur continued nervously, "I can't forget how disapproving Aithusa was when you gave me a lift before – not that it happened very often – but isn't it… _disrespectful_ to ride you like a… like a…"

"Like a horse?" Merlin finished when the king began to flounder.

"Yes!" Arthur admitted, his cheeks flushing. This conversation was beyond bizarre. The idea of riding Merlin like an animal… it was too weird to think about.

Merlin chuckled. "Arthur, it's okay. Really, I should have ignored Aithusa and Kilgharrah's words a long time ago. I still blame myself for that one time you fell off of me and nearly died. If I had made something like this, that wouldn't have happened."

Arthur shuddered. He couldn't remember falling since he had fainted from the loss of blood during a bandit attack from a stray arrow wound. Merlin had done what he could magically but the arrow had some form of dark magic that needed to be removed with the help of some magical artifact back in Camelot. He'd changed into a dragon to get him back to the citadel but halfway there Arthur's strength left him. According to Merlin, he'd fallen off and nearly hit the trees before the dragon was able to rescue him. After that Merlin was very reluctant to fly Arthur around anywhere even if they had used his unique travel abilities to aid distress calls from neighboring kingdoms.

Arthur looked at the saddle and reigns once more. "You're positive that you're okay with this?"

Merlin's large dragon eyes twinkled. "Just think of it as payback for that time I rode you like an animal as Dragoon."

Arthur scowled, remembering when he'd asked the old sorcerer Dragoon to help him cure his father. "That was the worst."

"It was hilarious!" Merlin laughed.

"Shut up Merlin."

The king then used an enormous amount of strength to jump from the ground and hoist himself into the saddle. Settling in and ignoring the unpleasant realization that he was basically straddling Merlin, Arthur focused on a thick leather belt that secured him in place. As he worked quickly on the buckle Merlin's large head swiveled around his long neck to stare at him.

"Did you figure it out or do you need my magic to help you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Merlin, I'm perfectly capable of strapping myself into a saddle. This was well made, by the way."

"Thank you. And look, I was even considerate enough to give you a place to put Excalibur," Merlin grinned, nudging his large head to a scabbard that had a couple secure straps at the top to keep it from falling out.

Arthur experimented, removing his sword from his waist and resting it in the scabbard. It fit perfectly, unsurprisingly. After locking the straps in place over the hilt, Arthur wound his hands around the reigns resting against Merlin's thick scaled neck. He took a deep breath, only a hint of his nerves betraying him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, allowing his small amount of fear to poke through for Merlin to see.

"Trust me, Arthur, you'll be fine."

"I don't mean that! I mean – this!" he shook the reigns slightly. "You can't tell me you're not weirded out by me riding you like an animal!"

Merlin paused to think it over. It did feel kind of weird but the warlock/dragon was actually fine with it. Probably because it was Arthur. If anyone else had tried to do something like this, Merlin would have burnt them to a crisp.

Grinning, the dragon replied, "Just think of it as a piggyback ride."

Arthur scowled. "That has got to be one of the most degrading–"

Arthur hadn't noticed Merlin's wings slowly rising behind him so he was entirely unprepared for when the dragon's head whipped around and his body lurched into the air like a releasing spring. A delayed scream ripped from the king's throat as both the wind and Merlin's mighty wings flapped loudly in his ears. Filled with embarrassment, Arthur's face flushed and he angrily swatted the reigns against Merlin's neck. The dragon merely laughed, his deep chuckle openly heard over the wind. Arthur would have smacked him again out of irritation for the vibration that was sure to follow – he'd never liked that sensation – but he felt nothing.

"I magicked the saddle," Merlin shouted, confirming the king's suspicions.

"You could have given me some kind of warning before taking off!" Arthur shouted back, hurting his throat in the process from the onslaught of wind filling his lungs. He ended up coughing, turning his head to the side so he could get some form of control over his breathing. It was moments like this that he wished he could simply speak to Merlin through his mind like the druids. It would make yelling at him so much easier! " _The idiot!"_

 _"Hey, who are you calling an idiot?"_

Arthur's eyes widened. "... _Merlin…?"_

 _"What?"_ came the surly reply.

 _"Are we… are you…?"_

 _"Very intelligible, Arthur. I thought you would have learned proper English by now with how old you are."_

 _"Shut up, you idiot!"_ Arthur retorted, offended. _"If you'd look past your smugness you'd realize that I'm not shouting at you."_

 _"Really? Because you sound pretty loud to me!"_

 _"Merlin! I'm not using my mouth!"_

It was then that the dragon finally caught up with what the rider was trying to say. Whipping his head around so he could see him, Merlin's draconic dumbfounded expression would have made Arthur burst out laughing if he hadn't been so shocked himself.

 _"We're mind-speaking?!"_ Merlin realized, his eyes wide.

 _"But, how is that even possible?"_ Arthur wondered. " _I've never been able to do this with you before!"_

 _"I don't know,"_ Merlin mused, _"but… wait! Arthur, I think we have done it before."_

 _"What? When?"_

 _"When I was…"_ the brief pause was enough for the king to know what he had been about to say. _"I heard you Arthur, comforting me. You told me that you would come."_

Realization dawned in Arthur's mind. _"And you said…"_

 _"'I'll hold you to that, you prat,'"_ Merlin repeated.

 _"Well_ ," the king mused, _"this certainly changes things. We can turn this off, right?"_

He could practically see Merlin smiling as he replied, " _Why? You don't want me to hear every thought you have?"_

 _"Merlin, I am entitled to my privacy! I have you poking around in my life enough without poking through my head!"_

Merlin chuckled. " _Don't worry then. The link has to be accepted, almost like a call."_

 _"Then how did it work? I wasn't trying to call you."_

 _"Did you want me to hear you calling me an idiot?"_

 _"… Yes…"_

 _"And I responded because I felt the familiar tug in my mind I usually feel when the druids try to contact me. I haven't talked to a druid in a long time. I was really excited for a moment there… then I heard your voice."_

 _"Are you saying I'm a disappointment?"_

Feeling the familiar banter starting up, Merlin grinned. " _Well, you are a shoddy king after all."_

 _"Shoddy?!"_

 _"Alright, shabby."_

 _"Says the man who, despite becoming a noble, still desired to run around with rags around his neck."_

 _"Hey! Don't insult the neckerchief! You're just jealous."_

 _"Of that? Please, I'd take a cape over it any day. If I recall, someone once told me they wanted to switch to that fashion sense too."_

 _"I was misguided. Besides, having a cape gets in the way of transporting."_

Arthur laughed aloud, his eyes twinkling as he remembered the time when Merlin transported into the throne room only to have his cape pulled over his eyes. He's sent him to speak with Annis during a council meeting. It had been quite a welcome disruption from the talk of taxes, watching his Court Sorcerer struggle to disentangle himself from the thick fabric. After that Merlin only wore capes to very formal occasions and even then he ditched them as soon as he could. He had worn a cloak when traveling with an easily detachable clasp but for the most part, the Warlock stayed true to his traditional neckwear.

 _"Those were the good days,"_ Arthur happily sighed.

Merlin had to agree with him. But his contentment didn't last long. _"Now those days are gone… Arthur, what's going to happen now? We may have rounded up the rest of the Death Eaters but there were plenty of muggles who witnessed magic being used. Not to mention you and the others may remember the past but you still have lives to live in this century. You're currently going to school, Leon and Morgana have full time jobs, your father owns an oil company… all of you have different lives that we have to consider."_

 _"Merlin, you just barely escaped the jaws of eternal torment and gained mortality. Can't you at least enjoy the freedom you've been given before being consumed with reality?"_

The warlock sighed. " _I'm just worried. Your return signifies Albion in need. There's so much we have to do."_

Arthur frowned. _"There is much to consider, my friend, but I have faith that we will work it all out together. Why don't we start with one step at a time?"_

 _"Alright… any suggestions?"_

A smirk started climbing the king's face. " _Actually, yes. There's one thing that needs to be rectified before we are to continue any further in our goal to reestablish our destiny."_

 _"Oh? And what might that be?"_

 _"Guinevere and I aren't married in this time period. That needs to change. And, I think it would be fitting to make it a double wedding, don't you?"_

The dragon dropped several feet in shock, his entire form frozen. " _Arthur?!"_

 _"Merlin! Geez, flap your wings before we both die, you idiot!"_

 _"Sorry,"_ Merlin apologized as he hastily beat the appendages to regain the altitude they had lost.

By now they were flying over the ocean, with nothing but the sky, clouds, wind, and rolling waves for company. Even so, Arthur didn't want to take any chances of someone seeing a man riding a dragon across the Atlantic. You never knew when a random boat would appear.

Arthur cleared his throat and tried again. " _Merlin?"_

There was a moment of silence before the warlock answered. " _Y-Yes?"_

 _"What are you thinking?"_

 _"Gee, I wonder?"_ Merlin replied sarcastically. " _Maybe the whole 'We should make it a double wedding, Merlin?'"_

Arthur snickered. " _And? What do you think?"_

The dragon shivered, the motion rocking the king back and forth. Surprisingly, Arthur wasn't bothered by it. In fact, the very speed and wind velocity was actually thrilling once he got used to it. Arthur clung deeply to the belief that it was because he knew for a fact that he was securely strapped to Merlin's back. If he had only been clinging to it with his bare hands… well, this definitely wouldn't be a pleasant experience at all.

 _"I told myself that when I was… freed... I would ask Freya to marry me, even if at the time I thought I'd eventually have to watch her die while I lived on."_

 _"Is that what was making you hesitate before?"_ Arthur asked sadly.

The dragon's head bobbed up and down. " _I wanted to propose for Christmas but… I was afraid. I already had to watch her die once in my arms, Arthur. Even now, there's the possibility of having that happen again. I don't know if I can handle it."_

Arthur reached forward and patted the base of the dragon's neck. The black scales were warm under his touch despite the chilly wind. " _Though the possibility is there, now you have the reassurance that sooner rather than perhaps never you'll be able to join her. Just do me a favor and don't die before you reach a ripe old age, alright? I don't know if I could live without you."_

 _"Speaking from experience, you'd be alive but you would probably feel like half of you had died."_

Once again the king was assaulted with guilt over having left his brother, his other half, behind to wallow for centuries alone. " _Merlin…"_

 _"Arthur, it's okay,"_ Merlin interrupted. " _The past is in the past. We've been given another lifetime – one in which I plan to use to the fullest to annoy you until my dying breath."_

The king's smile was small but it was still a smile. " _Don't think you'll get away unscathed either, idiot."_

 _"Prat."_

The two drifted into a tranquil silence, enjoying the ride both as dragon and king. Merlin's enhanced vision allowed him to see intricate details in the sea and clouds, as well as a couple birds hundreds of miles in the distance. The wind against his face smelt and tasted of sea salt and the cool arctic air was soothing against his blacked scales. He had made sure to put a heating spell around Arthur so the king wouldn't catch cold. Speaking of Arthur, Merlin knew he was enjoying himself. Even if he wouldn't say it aloud, now that he was comfortably secure, the thrill of flight rippled from his person and it was this that caused Merlin to have a little bit of fun.

How could he not when he was finally free, free not only from Rodolphus' captivity but of immortality?

Inhaling deeply, Merlin let out a roar, the onslaught of noise causing a rather peaceful Arthur to jump disjointedly in the saddle. Merlin felt the collar around his neck tighten a little as the king pulled reflexively on the reigns.

 _"Merlin!"_ Arthur chastened.

Without a word, the dragon turned his head to the side so the king could see the devious glint in one of his large blue eyes.

 _"Merlin?"_ Arthur questioned nervously, hesitantly.

Ignoring him, Merlin faced forward and arched into a spectacular dive, folding his wings against his body and roaring with joy, Arthur screaming somewhere behind him in pure terror.

"MERRRLIIIIIIIIN!"

The ocean was drawing close but now that he'd had years of practice, Merlin was an expert at pulling out of dives. At the right moment he snapped his wings open and the up current propelled him through the air like a cork shooting from a wine bottle. Knowing that Arthur was perfectly secure, Merlin twisted around in the air, spinning a couple of corkscrew maneuvers before righting himself again now hundreds of feet from the ocean.

And, to his utter delight, Arthur was laughing. Hysterically.

"Come on, Merlin!" he shouted over the wind. "Is that the best you can do?"

Merlin's grin was the largest it had ever been as a dragon as he turned to face his king. "You might want to hold on, Sire."

The excited glint in Arthur's gaze said it all as he tightened his hands on the reigns. "Bring it!" he shouted.

With another roar, Merlin dived, twisting as he did so. The wind whipped around him as he plummeted, spiraling round and round like a tornado. Arthur was laughing insanely on his back, whooping aloud when Merlin pulled out of the dive and arched in a giant loop, doing a barrel roll half way through. The dragon kept Arthur's health in mind -he didn't want to disorient his king too much- but he did keep him entertained by slithering like a snake in the air, going through several clouds, diving again and again (once so far that his claws skimmed the ocean waves!) all the while listening to Arthur laugh.

This went on until Merlin began to grow tired, his wings aching a little from so much aerial acrobatics. Arthur had his fill too, seemingly content when Merlin stopped flapping so much, the dragon now gliding with the current of the wind. Thankfully they were only twenty more minutes out at sea and, using magic, Merlin forged ahead to find a spot to rest his aching wings. He was pleased to find a rather large cave situated on the coast, far away from prying eyes. Heading in that direction, Merlin made sure to scan the ocean for boats. Finding none, he dived lower and Arthur, sensing the change in altitude, let out a soft sigh.

 _"Looks like our fun is over,"_ he mused silently.

Merlin chuckled. _"Who would have thought; the famous King Arthur is a Dragon Rider!"_

 _"You and I both know that title is ridiculous,"_ Arthur scoffed.

 _"Would you rather be 'King Arthur, Rider of Court Sorcerers and Ex-Manservants?'"_

 _"Merlin!"_ Arthur cried, horrified.

The dragon laughed loudly. " _Sorry, Sire, it looks like you're shy of goblets to throw."_

Arthur swatted him with his hand. Merlin barely felt the impact so thick were his scales.

 _"Was that supposed to hurt?"_

 _"Shut up Merlin. Are we almost there?"  
_

 _"Almost. Don't worry, Arthur, there will be plenty of other times we can go for a ride."_

 _"…Do you know how weird that will be when the knights or Guinevere ask where we're going? 'Oh, I'm just going to ride Merlin for a while.' Even to me it sounds so wrong."_

 _"I told you before, Arthur, piggyback riding is a far more acceptable explanation."_

 _"You're an idiot."_

 _"Glad to know your opinion of me hasn't changed."_

 _"Sorry to disappoint you,"_ Arthur said not sounding sorry at all.

Merlin chuckled. " _Hold on, you prat, we're about to land."_

So caught up in their conversation was he that Arthur failed to notice just how close they were to their destination. Tightening his grip on the reins, the king leaned slightly forward in the saddle and braced himself. Merlin's landing was surprisingly graceful, the water he set foot in barely grazing the bottom of Arthur's boots from the light splash.

"It would seem that you have better grace as a dragon than a human, Merlin," Arthur teased as the dragon waded through the shallow water towards the cave in the distance.

"Was that actually a compliment and an insult all in the same sentence?" Merlin mused, peeking back to eye the king with amusement. "I hate to say it but that is a remarkable talent few possess, _my lord._ " He made sure to emphasize sarcasm on the last two words.

Arthur smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I reserve that talent for special cases such as yourself."

"Oh ha ha very funny."

Finally reaching the shore, Merlin folded his wings lightly to his body and let out a contented sigh as his great belly collapsed onto the sandy beach at the cave's mouth. Closing his eyes, the great beast let out a series of deep breathes, lulling himself into a small stupor while Arthur wrestled to free himself from the secured saddle on Merlin's back. The strap finally came loose and with regal grace, the king pulled Excalibur from its sheath and slid out of the saddle onto dry ground.

Arthur's modern body, however, was not used to being in a saddle for any length of time. Sore all over and hissing slightly, Arthur -understandably- was immensely grateful Merlin's eyes were closed or else he would have seen the young king waddling further onto the shore. Highly embarrassed, Arthur sank to the ground by Merlin's front claw and rested his back against the large forearm. Merlin arched his neck around so his head was now resting next to Arthur's side, one large blue eye appraising him. Then the dragon grinned.

"Saddle sore?" he teased.

Arthur swore. "You weren't supposed to see that!"

A deep snort escaped the dragon's snout. "Your hissing was loud enough to take a guess. Not much opportunity to be on a horse in the twenty first century, is there?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

The dragon chuckled again, his large lid hiding the dancing amusement within the beast's mind. Arthur rolled his eyes but looked upon his dragon, his warlock, with fondness. Reaching out, he rubbed Merlin's snout a few times.

"Get some rest you idiot," he gently commanded.

"You can't tell me what to do," Merlin sighed sleepily.

"I'm the king, Merlin," Arthur grinned.

The dragon snorted again. "Dollophead."

The word came out rather slurred and the deep breathing soon to follow told Arthur all he needed to know that Merlin was asleep. Smiling warmly, the king patted the dragon's snout one last time before leaning further into Merlin's large limb.

"We'll need to leave in a couple hours," he said even though Merlin was too far gone to hear him. Chuckling to himself, Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep from the steady sound of powerful yet soothing breathing.

* * *

 **I'd highly suggest going back and listening to How To Train Your Dragon's Flight Theme during our favorite warlock and king's journey across the Atlantic. :) So, what did you think? Please leave a review! We're drawing to a close on this fic - I'm thinking maybe another five chapters. We'll see. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Spell: Set free the sorcerer from immortality**


	22. Chapter 22

22: Aftershocks

Arthur woke to a raging dragon, something he never would admit terrified him to death. Merlin was growling, smoke curling from his nostrils, his body flailing back and forth in a rather horrifying frenzy. Arthur scrambled away before Merlin's large forearm could crush him.

"Merlin!" he shouted, afraid to get any closer to the thrashing magical lizard. "MERLIN!"

Panicked blue eyes appeared and the dragon let out a huge gasp, sitting up on his hind legs, his head scraping the cave ceiling. His mighty chest heaved for air and his nostrils flared, smoke drifting from the large holes. Merlin's expression was wild and horrified. Arthur had to calm him down.

"Merlin!" he bellowed through cupped hands, "Merlin, it's alright!"

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice sounded like it was climbing through gravel. The dragon lowered its head, finding the small man standing several feet below him. Resettling on all-fours, Merlin sank to his belly and curled his tail close to his body, resting his head on the sand. Arthur approached him immediately, rubbing his tough snout.

"Merlin, what happened?" he asked, his voice gentle and soothing.

Large tears formed in the dragon's eyes and his whole body quivered uncomfortably. "It's nothing," he mumbled.

Arthur frowned. "Merlin, don't lie to me. Was it a nightmare?"

The dragon swallowed. "Yeah."

Arthur stroked Merlin's head sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Give me a minute," Merlin replied.

A moment later the dragon was gone, replaced by Merlin who was emerging from under a large saddle and harness. Waving his hand, the leather work shrunk down to pocket size, Merlin picking it up and placing it in the front pocket of his bloodstained jeans. His shirt was still completely in rags, the remains also covered in dried blood. Arthur felt a wave of anger from the sight. If Rodolphus Lestrange wasn't given the death penalty for what he'd done to Merlin he'd better be sentenced to life in prison or so help him, he may just do something incredibly reckless. Merlin's magic may have healed his body but the scars from the ordeal still haunted his eyes; eyes once full of sparkling happiness now dimmed from torturous injustice.

Arthur hadn't realized his whole body had tensed until Merlin rested a gentle, slightly shaking hand on his forearm. "Relax, Arthur," he soothed, "I'm okay."

"No you're not!" Arthur snapped, his eyes observing his brother. The warlock's shoulders slumped and his countenance fell. "Merlin, what did they do to you? Please, I have to know so I can help you. Don't shut me out. You formed a horrible habit in the past of taking everything on your own shoulders but this is something I'd rather you didn't. Please."

Merlin's tortured gaze stabbed Arthur's heart. He looked devastated. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I should have realized they had the rune cuffs. I wasn't fast enough."

"Merlin, don't you _dare_ start blaming yourself for what happened! It wasn't your fault."

"I was the one who put Rodolphus in those cuffs to begin with, Arthur. I never thought one of my creations would be able to be used against me."

"Well, you are the most powerful warlock to ever live so naturally what you built was meant to be effective," Arthur smiled sadly, bumping Merlin with his shoulder. Merlin returned a similar smile but it didn't reach his eyes. Arthur sighed, a heavy frown pulling at his lips. "Merlin, please, tell me what happened."

The warlock swallowed painfully before nodding. "Alright but… don't tell the others."

"I won't," Arthur promised, "unless you tell me otherwise."

And so Merlin began to retell his ordeal. Arthur listened with horrified disgust as Merlin described what had happened from the time he left the flat to the time he was rescued. The young king couldn't believe the amount of torture Merlin had endured in so short a time. Though it was a horribly morbid thought, he was grateful that Merlin still had his immortality; if he hadn't, Rodolphus would have killed him.

"He broke me, Arthur," Merlin whispered, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes hollow as he stared out at the gentle coastline. "I told myself that I would never allow him to do so but he did."

Arthur had never seen Merlin like this before. Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped an arm around his Court Sorcerer and held him close, feeling utterly helpless. "Merlin, any other man would have begged for death under such torture but you held firm. You are the most courageous man I've ever met."

Merlin's smile was weak as he scoffed. "I don't feel very courageous. I should have _known_ it was an illusion. B-But it seemed so real."

Arthur stiffened. Illusion? Merlin hadn't said anything about illusions yet. He'd only talked about the multiple uses of killing curses and torture spells. "He made you hallucinate?" he asked, his throat dry.

Merlin swallowed painfully, his eyes spilling over with tears, the torture he'd experienced before naked in his eyes. "It was my worst fear, Arthur. I was burning – I was on a pyre – and you – you were walking away… you rejected me."

Arthur's gasp caught in his throat, his eyes wide with horror as he remembered his dream last night of watching Merlin burning, screaming his name, and being unable to reach him no matter how hard he tried.

"It was so r-real!" Merlin sobbed, burying his face in his arms, his whole form trembling like a leaf. "I cried out to you, wishing that you would just turn around, to see how sorry I was for lying, for keeping the truth from you… but you wouldn't turn around! You just kept walking, the last thing I saw before… before the flames were too high…"

Arthur was fully holding on to Merlin now, both his arms supporting his brother as he cried openly into his shoulder. Undeniable rage raced through Arthur's veins like poison, his vision turning red. _How. Dare. They._ How _dare_ they hurt Merlin! Merlin was kind, wise, self-sacrificing, cheerful, humble, and compassionate. He was the epitome of all that was good! And these… these _monsters_ had hurt him!

"If I ever come across that man again," Arthur growled, his anger seething through his words, "I'll make sure that what he did to you seems like frolicking through a field of daisies on a warm summer day - I'll find a way for him to feel the fiery sting of death for eternity while shroud in the innermost parts of his darkest nightmares!"

The warlock shakily pulled away, wiping at his eyes. "Arthur," he gently chided, "revenge is not who you are."

Arthur stiffened, his teeth grinding together. Deep down he knew that. But he was just so angry! "That monster needs to be brought to justice!"

"And he will be," Merlin answered, flinching a little at the word 'monster'; he had never liked that word. "He'll face trial and his fate will be decided then."

"I want to be there," Arthur said stubbornly. "I want to make sure he gets what he deserves."

"I don't think that would be wise," Merlin hedged. "You may not like hearing it but you did inherit your father's impatience and, as much as I've worked to stamp it out of you, it surfaces the most when your emotions are high. You might say or do things you'll regret."

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to sedate the beast of fury raging in his chest. "Nobody is going to hurt you like this ever again," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Arthur," Merlin warned, "I won't allow you to be consumed with thoughts such as these. If you go down that path you'll be no better than your father. I'm grateful that you want to protect me but you can never allow yourself to regress from the king you are destined to be. You were once the greatest king this land has ever known. You ruled with justice and mercy."

"Rodolphus Lestrange does not deserve mercy, Merlin!"

"No, he does not. But he does deserve to be held accountable for his actions. He will face the wizarding community and be brought to justice. His sentence will be properly given, Kingsley will see to that. He's done too many atrocious things in his life to be let off easy. He'll probably be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."

"What's that?" Arthur wondered, doubting that such a ridiculous sounding punishment would merit the consequence of Lestrange's actions.

"When a Dementor administers a kiss, they suck out your soul," Merlin shuddered, "leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. The body may still be in tact but it is nothing more than that."

Arthur stared. "Are there many who receive this punishment?"

Merlin shook his head. "It's one of the worst sentences given in the Wizarding World and it isn't given lightly. It's worse than death, Arthur. I saw it done once and I never wish that upon any living soul, not even Rodolphus Lestrange."

Arthur frowned. "You're too forgiving, Merlin," he said bluntly.

The warlock smiled sadly. "You know me, Arthur. I don't like ending life, no matter how tainted the soul."

The king sighed. "I know," he muttered, "but sometimes justice has to take that course."

"Which is why you're the king and not me," Merlin said, ribbing him slightly.

Arthur smirked. "A good thing too; clearly you don't have the backbone to make the hard decisions."

"I don't have to be a king to do that, Arthur," Merlin teased, "that's already part of my job protecting your sorry hide."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them before Arthur rested a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I would never walk away from you, you know."

Merlin's countenance softened. "I know, Arthur."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"I will be," Merlin answered, "if you stay with me."

Arthur smiled. "Always, until the end of all things."

[][][]

Shortly after sorting his emotions, Merlin transported both himself and Arthur back to Hogwarts. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon, painting the winter day in brilliant hues of orange, pink, and red. The vibrant colors streamed in through the windows of the Great Hall and from the enchanted ceiling overhead but neither Arthur nor Merlin had much time to enjoy the colors as several shouts rang throughout the room.

"ARTHUR!"

"MERLIN!"

Merlin barely had enough time to brace himself before his arms were filled with a rather flustered Freya. The former Lady of the Lake nearly squeezed the life out of him before running her hands over his face and shoulders every few seconds, her dark eyes roaming every inch of him.

"You're okay," she whispered, tears pouring from her eyes.

Merlin leaned down and kissed her. "I'm okay," he assured, cupping her face.

Freya trembled weakly in his arms though her grip was strong. "I was so scared," she cried.

"I'm alright," he soothed, kissing the side of her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Freya pulled away but that was only because she could sense the others behind her respectfully but a little impatiently waiting their turn to check on their favorite warlock. Gwen was the next to wrap him in her sisterly embrace, her tears just as thick as Freya's had been.

"You gave us all quite the scare, Merlin," she muttered. "I don't know what we would have done…"

Merlin smiled. "I'm tougher than I look, Gwen. I would have held out no matter how long it took for Arthur to rescue me."

"Only girls need to be rescued Merlin," the king teased beside him.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Apparently it's also said that only girls scream in terror. Perhaps I should share with the others what happened earlier over the ocean?"

"Oh shut up," the king retorted though his eyes were dancing with mirth.

Gwen stepped aside to let the knights crowd him next and then the Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors clapped him on the back though their rejoicing was subdued from the loss of a dear comrade.

"I'm glad you're alright," Harry muttered, his eyes downcast.

Merlin squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you for helping Arthur come after me, Harry. He told me that you've been accepted into the Auror program. Congratulations. I know that's what you've always wanted to do."

Harry's smile didn't quite reach his eyes behind his round glasses. "Yeah, it is."

Merlin looked around at the other distressed witches and wizards surrounding him and it was painful not to see Professor McGonagall among them. Swallowing past the pain in his throat, he addressed them collectively.

"I thank each one of you for coming to my aid. I will be forever in your debt. We lost someone dear today, someone who will not be forgotten. Another great soul has left our midst and I send a plea that Minerva McGonagall will find safe journey and rest in Avalon. May she rest in peace."

The others hung their heads respectively and the entire hall was still. Merlin's heart felt heavy as he glanced past the gathered crowd to notice a solitary figure standing alone, her pale face covered slightly in the shadow of her long ebony locks. Merlin gently maneuvered through the small gathering, ignoring the stares as he made his way toward Morgana. The former witch had been crying, if her slightly reddened cheeks were anything to go by. When Merlin reached her, Morgana's lovely green eyes locked onto his unique blue ones, the two standing an arm's length apart, a silent conversation playing through the emotions each displayed in them.

And then Merlin closed the distance and embraced his former foe. Judging by how still she was, Morgana was clearly in shock but soon a sob escaped her lips and she hugged Merlin just as tightly, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Merlin shed a few tears of his own.

"Morgana," he muttered, pulling away, "I knew you were once one to dance with the devil but I never thought you'd wander into a den of demons unarmed."

The former witch smiled. Though still sad, her eyes held the hint of a sparkle. "I can hold my own when I have to."

Merlin shook his head. "You risked your life to save mine. You didn't have to do that."

Morgana swallowed. Looking down at her feet, she quietly admitted, "Yes I did. I needed to prove to myself that I'm no longer the wicked High Priestess – that I'm better than her. I don't ever want to live that nightmare again, Merlin."

"Yet you put on that mask to save my life," Merlin muttered in awe. "Morgana, you're one of the strongest women I have ever met. It takes true courage to do what you did. I'd probably still be strung up by Lestrange if you hadn't."

"It was nothing," Morgana said.

"It was _everything,_ " Merlin amended. "I'm in your debt more than anyone else, Morgana. Thank you."

The young librarian's eyes were bright. As she looked up at him, Merlin found himself gazing on the young woman he'd met all those years ago when he was still a boy stumbling into Camelot for the first time.

Morgana threw her arms around Merlin's neck and whispered softly in his ear, "No, Merlin. Thank you, for forgiving and believing in me."

A wave of contentment fell over his heart and his eyes softened as he heard the whisper of the Triple Goddess within his mind.

 _"Well done, my Emrys. You have helped to mend that which was broken_."

[][][]

It had been three days since the rescue and Merlin was suffering from nightmares of his brief time in captivity. Arthur and Freya were a huge help, being there to assist him with fighting his inner demons. The others were kind enough not to press him about his ordeal but they made sure to show him that they were there if he ever needed someone to talk to. Merlin felt very fortunate to be surrounded by such good friends. When he'd revealed that he was no longer immortal, the celebration that followed lasted long into the night, Gwaine running about filling everyone's cup with firewhiskey and dancing around like a drunken idiot. Merlin had been beside himself with joy when Freya quietly confessed to him that she'd been released as the Lady of the Lake. The two were now free to live their lives and then pass on into Avalon. It was everything that Merlin had ever hoped for. All of his friends had returned and he no longer had to say goodbye and live without them. He would be with them to the very end.

It was this thought that fueled the old warlock as he made his way down the spiral staircase belonging to his tower; it was one of the few turrets in Hogwarts that nobody had been able to gain entrance to, the edifice having been magicked so only Merlin could enter during Arthur's reign as King of Albion in the past. Many of the warlock's things were still there, having had preservation charms placed upon them when Merlin decided to leave Camelot for good after Arthur's death. Taking a deep breath, Merlin stopped at the base of the steps, facing what seemed to be a solid stone wall.

Did he really want to go out there and face everyone right now? He wasn't sure if he could stand the pitied looks from the Hogwarts teachers or the concern of the knights and his friends. Arthur was the only one who understood the importance of treating him like he wasn't going to break any second. The king was able to pick up on every mood that passed from Merlin whether it was the need to be alone or the longing of companionship. He acted on those without hesitation, sometimes more or less forcing everyone away when it was clear that all the attention was heavily frustrating him. Today was one of those days where Merlin wanted to be alone.

Too bad he rarely got what he wanted.

Sighing, he forced his feet to move and walked through the wall. A black cat was waiting in the hallway, her yellow eyes rounding on him from her perch on the floor. A soft greeting mewl escaped her mouth as she stretched out of her current position and wandered over to where Merlin stood. Smiling, the warlock bent down and picked her up.

"Now that's not fair," he muttered, stroking her head. "Why can you run away from everyone as a cat while I have to walk around like this?"

All of a sudden the cat was gone, replaced by Freya whose larger form still felt feather light to the man holding her. Kissing Merlin gently, she pulled back to smile at him. "You know, you could always try to transfigure yourself into a smaller animal since your Animagus form is so big."

Merlin frowned. "I don't know. It might be too hard to change back. What if I get stuck as a pigeon or something? That would be rather embarrassing."

"Yes, especially if said pigeon was seen fawning over a cat," Freya teased, slipping out of Merlin's arms to hold his hand as the two walked down the hall.

"Now that would be a sight," Merlin mused.

A few minutes later they came to a stop outside the painting of Camelot. Merlin gently pulled Freya towards him and kissed her. "You didn't have to wait for me," he muttered, his eyes still closed as he rested his forehead on hers.

"I know but I wanted to," she said, brushing his lips with her own. "I wasn't waiting long; just a few minutes."

Merlin sighed, relishing in having her close. How many years – no, decades – had he longed to have her like this in his life? It was as if he were living a dream. "I love you so much," he said, holding her gaze.

She caressed his cheek. "I love you too, Merlin. I'll always be here for you. You know that?"

"I know," he sadly smiled. "I just hope that you'll be patient with me. What happened… it's going to take a while for me to…" he trailed off, his eyes on the floor.

"I understand," she said soothingly, squeezing his hand. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," he whispered, holding her close.

Her hair smelt of fresh wild flowers and her presence was calming like the still surface of a lake. Her hold was just as gentle, the soft caress offering just enough stability for him to remain grounded. He held her for longer than usual, his frame shaking slightly as it always did when threatened by the memories of his nightmares. Freya kept her arms tightly wound around his torso, her head resting underneath his chin, her hands rubbing soothing circles into his back. It took a while but Merlin eventually calmed down enough to step out of the embrace.

"I won't see much of you today, will I?" Freya guessed, her brown eyes sad.

Merlin wouldn't meet her gaze as he shook his head. "Probably not. But I'll find you tonight."

Freya gently lifted his head and sent him a warm smile. "Like I said, take all the time you need, Merlin. I'll be here whenever you need me."

"Sometimes I feel I don't deserve you," he muttered before kissing her.

"You deserve everything," she whispered as she pulled away. "Now go on; you have a king to wake."

Merlin smiled. "I'll see you later."

She kissed him one last time before walking away down the corridor. The warlock watched her hips sway gently back and forth in her tight jeans before she disappeared around the corner. He unconsciously sighed. _New Years Eve_ , he reminded himself, shaking his head from pleasurable fantasies. Twisting on his heel, he ploughed through the painting; he'd magicked it so that only he, Arthur, and Gwen could enter at any given time.

The soft snores echoing around the room from the large bed caused a small smile to climb the warlock's face. Tiptoeing to the window, he threw open the curtains and stepped back, allowing the snowy brilliance to hit Arthur full in the face. The peaceful snore turned into an unpleasant grunt as Arthur's eyes scrunched tighter and he turned over on his side.

"Merlin?" he grumbled.

"Who else is brave enough to wake you up?"

The king immediately noted the lack of amusement in the warlock's tone. Lifting up on his elbows, he forced himself to brave the light and find where Merlin stood. "Are you alright?"

Merlin sighed, his shoulders slumping. There was no point hiding it from Arthur; he had the gift of reading his every mood anyway. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Merlin kept his eyes on the floor as he shook his head in answer.

Arthur was beside him in a moment but he didn't try to probe – something Merlin was immensely grateful for. Instead the king waited patiently, well, as patiently as was possible for Arthur, until he was ready to speak. Grinning a little at the fidgeting king, Merlin let out a sigh.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "it's just… I wish I could get over this!"

The bitterness in his tone was clearly audible but Merlin found he didn't care. Leaping to his feet, he started pacing back and forth, waving his arms frantically and, though he didn't realize it, causing objects around the room to float about with his magic. He might have also caused the weather outside to turn for the worst, the light snow becoming an instant blizzard.

"It was less than a day, Arthur!" he cried angrily, kicking the desk nearest to him. Ignoring his now throbbing toe, he kept ranting. "You would think I'd be stronger than this! I've faced every kind of horror imaginable – even the world wars weren't this difficult to live through and I saw more death and destruction then than I have ever seen in my life. What is wrong with me? Why can't I get over this?!"

Arthur rose to his feet and forced Merlin to a halt by taking his shoulders. "Merlin, will you stop being so hard on yourself? It's only been a few days; most traumatic experiences people face take weeks if not years to get over. From what you've told me, it's perfectly logical for you to be having a hard time. You were tortured repeatedly with the killing curse for heaven's sake! That means you literally tasted death over a thousand times! And the illusions; Merlin, you were trapped in your own personal Hell. While you have lived through wars and seen more destruction than any person ought to, those events didn't hold any personal strings attached to your heart. I think the reason this is the hardest thing you've had to deal is because of me."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, confused and frustrated.

"Rodolphus attacked your heart, Merlin," the king grimly answered. "He used a spell that created your worst fear imaginable and made you believe it was real. I was part of that illusion and you and I both know how deep our bond is. Merlin, if our roles were reversed and I had to live through my deepest fear, do you know what it would be?"

"Losing Gwen?" Merlin guessed.

Arthur swallowed, his heart breaking a little at the thought. Yes, losing Guinevere would be great but it wasn't the core of his darkest fear. "She would be part of it," he admitted.

Merlin's brows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"My greatest fear would be _you_ abandoning _me,"_ the king quietly admitted. "Having you decide I wasn't worth protecting anymore... the kingdom would fall apart _. I_ would fall apart. I wouldn't be strong enough to keep everything together on my own. Failing, Merlin, that's my biggest fear: failing you, Guinevere, and everyone and everything I've ever cared about. I'm not fool enough to think I'm strong enough to survive on my own. If I didn't have you, I'd be a complete and utter prat, a bitter man without love and trust in his life. I wouldn't be the man I am today had you not been there."

Merlin stared at him, watching with slight amusement at the deep coloring filtering into the king's cheeks. "Why, Arthur, I think that's the closest thing to a declaration of love I've ever heard."

The king reeled backwards immediately, flabbergast. "Merlin!" he spluttered, eyes wide.

The warlock laughed and it was the first true laugh he'd released since before Christmas. "Sorry, sire!" he chuckled, "I couldn't resist!"

Murderous, Arthur punched him in the arm. "I'm trying to bear my soul here and you go and make a joke about it? I was trying to make you feel better, you idiot!" he shouted, his face as red as his shirt.

"Oh I definitely feel better," Merlin said sincerely, his laughter subsiding. "Thank you Arthur."

"I should throw you in the stocks," Arthur grumbled, folding his arms and looking away, appearing just as he did eons ago as the petulant prince Merlin first met.

It was like going back in time. The warlock sobered immediately. Things had been simpler then; at the time, his destiny had been particularly trying but now he found himself wishing for those days when all he had to do was clean up after Arthur and save his royal backside. Now he had to deal with reinstating Arthur into a society that believed them to be nothing but fictious legends – not to mention he had a horrible feeling that now it was known he was still alive, the entire wizarding world was going to want a piece of him for themselves. Why did his life always have to be so complicated?

"Merlin? Are you alright?"

"Can we go somewhere?" Merlin asked desperately, feeling the need to run. "Just for a little while?"

Arthur raised a curious brow. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Somewhere far away," the warlock hedged, "maybe in the clouds?"

Catching on to what his Court Sorcerer was suggesting, the king glanced out the window at the blizzard still raging heavily on the other side of the glass. The last thing he wanted was to leave the cozy warmth of the castle but seeing Merlin's desperate face and the need to run away changed his mind; Arthur wasn't about to let his friend run off alone, especially when he wanted him to go with him.

"Let me get dressed," he said.

"I'll help," Merlin offered, running over to the closet and pulling out some of the warmest clothes the king owned from the past.

After returning from the future to the past, Arthur had fired Merlin as his manservant and fully instated him as his Court Sorcerer and First Advisor to the King. It had been quite an adjustment to the former servant but the king was adamant about the change. He'd hired a new manservant for himself and even hired one for Merlin – not that the boy did much since the warlock preferred to do most things himself. It had been strange adjusting to the new routine but eventually Merlin stopped showing up to wake Arthur and help him dress in the mornings. There were occasions where Merlin would demand to serve him and Arthur would relent (only after Merlin threatened to turn him into a donkey for a day, of course).

Even now the king nearly told his friend off for trying to help him dress but after a sigh, Arthur let it go; sometimes serving him cheered the warlock more than anything else. It boggled Arthur's mind but if it made Merlin happy… who was he to stop him?

Merlin indeed seemed a little more cheerful as he helped the king into his thick undershirt, sweater, coat, and outer leather-hooded vest. Arthur laced up his wool-lined boots over his equally inner wool-lined pants before taking the belt and scabbard holding Excalibur from Merlin and securing them around his waist.

"I think you're ready for being outside for a while," Merlin nodded in approval as the king slipped on his gloves.

Arthur glanced up and raised a curious brow. "You don't seem at all prepared to leave though."

"Dragons don't need warm clothes, Arthur," Merlin smiled, his eyes dancing a little from the prospect of getting away with his best friend. "Come on, let's go!"

"Fine, fine, no need to nag," Arthur chuckled as he followed his little brother out of the room and down the hall.

They took a different route – one that wouldn't lead them past the Great Hall where everyone was sure to be hovering around waiting for them – walking down several empty corridors and staircases before they reached the courtyard. It was just wide enough to fit Merlin once he'd transformed and Arthur waited near the edge while the warlock trundled out into the thickly falling snow in order to do just that. Merlin's form rippled and the gangly manservant disappeared in an instant, replaced by the magnificent black dragon that had caused many in battles past to fall over in fear. Large dragonic blue eyes, filled with the same desperation Arthur had seen earlier in his friend, locked onto his slightly awed face; no matter how many times he'd seen it, the king was still left a little breathless from the change.

"Can we go now?" Merlin asked, his gravelly voice full of longing and anxiety.

Arthur raised a skeptical brow. "Where's the saddle, Merlin?"

"Oh, right."

The dragon's eyes transformed from bright blue to stunning gold and the saddle shimmered into existence on his back, the harness and reigns looping expertly around his neck and body. Satisfied but still feeling a little strange for riding his Court Sorcerer in such a manner, Arthur tromped out into the knee high snow and clambered onto Merlin's back. After strapping himself in and double checking to make sure he was indeed secure, Arthur removed Excalibur and placed it in the sheath, locking it in place with the straps and buckles Merlin had made. The dragon shifted beneath him and a small growl escaped the large maw.

"I'm almost ready, Merlin, calm down," Arthur griped, grabbing the reigns and looping them a couple of times around his gloved hands. "Alright, go on then!" he shouted.

Merlin stretched his wings and launched himself into the air with such force that the wind was knocked out of Arthur's stomach. Had either of them been paying attention, they would have noticed the small gathering of knights, witches, wizards, and women watching from the largest window, their faces filled with slight concern and confusion as to where the two were headed.

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 **Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. I figured it was only logical for our favorite warlock to be suffering a little after such a terrible ordeal. Don't worry, his pain won't last too long. More to come soon! Please leave a review. :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you all for the support, love, and time you've given to this story! The reviews are amazing and I can't believe how many people have favorited/followed this so far. All of you seriously make me so happy! Thank you very much! :D**

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23: Facing Fears

Morgana watched Merlin's dragon form carry away the king with a slight frown on her face.

Gwaine sighed quietly beside her. "Looks like we won't be seeing Merlin again today," he murmured.

"He can't keep hiding like this," said Hermione. "It'll only make things worse."

"Give him a break, Hermione," Harry muttered, "the man has been through more than anyone can possibly imagine. He deserves his privacy."

"But hiding from everyone?"

"Merlin's always been that way," Gaius said while the others nodded. "He carried his burdens alone for almost thirty years before the others even knew he had magic. It took even longer after that for him to share with Arthur every dark secret he carried. We know some but Arthur is the only person he will ever fully open up to – even me and I was his guardian."

"What about _you_ though?" Ron asked, looking at Freya curiously.

The former druid had remained silent through all of this but now that she was being addressed, she appeared resigned. "I came to the realization long ago that there were certain things Merlin was never going to feel comfortable revealing to me."

"You're joking," stuttered Percy. "You mean to say that Merlin tells King Arthur more than he tells you?"

"It's the same with Arthur and I," Gwen said, coming to Freya's rescue. "What all of you need to understand is that Arthur and Merlin are literally two halves that make a whole. The only ones here that may have an inkling of what I'm trying to get at are Fred and George and that's because they're twins - but even then Arthur and Merlin's relationship goes so much deeper."

"It is a bond forged with an ancient force of magic that few are capable of comprehending," Freya added with a shrug. "Gwen and I accepted long ago that the men we love need each other more than they need us sometimes."

"And you're both fine with that?" asked Tonks curiously.

"It doesn't bother me," Gwen honestly answered.

"Me either," agreed Freya just as sincerely. "You wouldn't understand but," she glanced at Gwen, the two sharing a knowing look, "we do."

The queen nodded, smiling.

"All of this aside, I'm still worried about him," Lancelot muttered.

"We all are, mate," said Gwaine.

"Will Merlin really be alright though?" Morgana asked quietly. "I've never seen him like this."

"He just needs time," Gaius comforted. "Arthur is with him. If there's anyone who can help him get back on his feet, it's the king."

Morgana frowned. Though she knew Gaius was right, she couldn't help feeling guilty. Part of her felt she was responsible for what had happened to Merlin. It was utterly ridiculous, of course, but the former High Priestess couldn't help thinking that if she'd had her magic, she could have ended Merlin's suffering before Rodolphus could inflict him with mental torture. She somehow knew that was the root of Merlin's current pain; mentally tortured to believe the other half of your soul rejected and sentenced you to burn would leave deep emotional scarring on anyone. A single tear escaped Morgana's eye as she remembered the warlock's agonized screams. This led to the death of Minerva McGonagall on her behalf and the guilt that had been consuming her for the last three days returned in full force, punching her in the stomach.

"Morgana?"

She tried to stifle her sob but Gwaine heard it anyway. She found herself buried in his chest again – a place she was becoming very familiar with – his arms wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. She hadn't realized the others had disappeared until she had enough strength to look up into Gwaine's concerned gaze.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his dark eyes surveying her.

Morgana shook her head. "I can't help but feel that this is my fault," she mumbled, her lip trembling.

Gwaine's eyebrows drew together. "How could that be?"

"If I'd had my magic, I could have done something," she confessed.

She had been holding her emotions beneath the surface all this time, trying to keep her sorrows from everyone; she didn't feel she deserved their concern when Merlin was so much worse off than she. But now that the waterworks had started, she'd lost the willpower to keep the worries of her heart from the one person she felt wouldn't judge her.

"I could have stopped them from hurting him like this," she continued as Gwaine frowned silently. "I could have prevented Professor McGonagall from having to save me because I would have been able to save myself! But she's dead and Merlin–!"

Another sob escaped her and she threw herself into Gwaine, crying openly into his shoulder. Her body trembled and she felt like she was about to fall apart, consumed in guilt. So much regret, so much hurt. Would it ever end? Could she not just forget? How she wanted to! Her past haunted her like a ghost in the night while her future lay uncertain before her. She hadn't deserved McGonagall's sacrifice. She hadn't deserved Merlin's forgiveness. She'd allowed him to wallow further in torture – she'd even slapped him! How was she any different than before?

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered to Gwaine. "McGonagall shouldn't have tried to save me. I'm not worth it."

"Now just stop it right there!" Gwaine demanded, pulling away and holding her shoulders. "Do you even hear yourself? You're passing judgment when there is no need to! Morgana, you're not who you once were. The fact that you're feeling the way you are is proof enough of that! It was McGonagall's _choice_ to protect you and that's alright. You need to let go of this belief that you are worth less than anyone else. And I know that Merlin doesn't hold anything against you. Do you remember what he said? If it hadn't been for you, we never would have been able to move him. We would have tried to rescue him where he was and people would have died. You saved lives by pretending to be what you once were. Yes, the world lost a great individual but McGonagall went down a hero, choosing to protect someone she believed was good. She wouldn't have tried to save you if she believed otherwise. She had faith in the woman you have chosen to be and so do I."

"But she's just one person," Morgana protested. "The entire wizarding world believes me to be this wicked witch! Gwaine, they'll reject me. They might even…" – she shook her head – "They might even sentence me to Azkaban. I helped Voldemort! I ran Merlin through with Mordred's sword and tossed him from Azkaban's roof! I killed many people during that battle – students included. I don't deserve kindness. I'm not like the rest of you. Don't you see? All anyone is ever going to see when they look at me is a murderess. I don't belong here. You, the knights, Gwen, Freya, Arthur, and Merlin, you will always be revered and welcomed by these people but me? Don't even pretend to think that they will see me that way. I am known as the most evil witch in history. And now I'm the reason a renowned witch is dead!"

"You're not evil, Morgana!" Gwaine said, holding her tight.

She smiled sadly and removed herself from his grasp. "I may have chosen not to be anymore but my past is still part of me, Gwaine. I have no desire to return to it but I can't run from it either. No matter where I go, people will remember what I have done. They will judge me before they even know me. You can't stay with me. I'm not good for you. I'm not good for any of you. I should just leave."

"You're not going anywhere!"

Before Morgana could slip away, Gwaine yanked her back into his arms and began kissing her furiously. She tried to fight him as he pushed her against the solid stone wall but his hold was too strong.

 _No._

She needed to get away. She _had_ to! For Gwaine's sake. If he stayed with her, people would judge him the same as she and she wasn't willing to make him suffer such a life.

But as he kissed her, his passion and longing to make her feel what he felt washed through her veins and spiked her body in such a way that left her breathless. Her resistance crumbled as tears slowly fell from the corners of her eyes. It was wrong but she couldn't turn him away. She wanted this. Her arms snaked around his back and she pulled him closer to her, yearning to get rid of the small space between them. Gwaine's hand expertly wound its way through her hair, tangling his fingers with the long locks as they came to a rest at the base of her neck. His other hand found the small of her back and pushed her even further against him. Shivers of pleasure cascaded through Morgana's body and for a moment she allowed herself to forget rationality, enjoying the emotions for what they were. Gwaine's lips left hers only to create a trail down towards her ear.

"You're not going anywhere," he whispered gently before pulling back to look at her.

Curse this man! The windows to her soul were displaying her desire for him in plain sight. Her lower lip trembled and if there wasn't a wall behind her, she would have taken a step back if only to clear her head. Never had she been so vulnerable around a man before. Even in the olden days as Uther's loving ward she had kept up her guard.

Gwaine cupped her face and smiled. "Stay with me?"

Morgana's heart fluttered and she found herself nodding. The answering smile he sent her was enough to melt the librarian into a pile of jelly. Her legs shook and her body trembled as Gwaine leaned down and kissed her once more, the pad of his thumb rubbing softly against her cheek.

"I hate you," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Gwaine chuckled. "I hated you first."

"You're impossible," she groaned, her forehead coming to rest against his shoulder.

"And you love me for it."

"Unfortunately," she grumbled, holding him close. They stayed like that for a time, enjoying each other's company, neither willing to part with the other. After a while Morgana sighed and gently pushed him away. "Your reputation is going to be ruined if you stay with me, you know."

Gwaine shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, the world can see me however they will. As long as I have my friends and family I have everything I need."

Morgana smiled sadly. "I wish I had your strength. I'm so consumed with how people will treat me…"

"All you can do is live your life the way you want to, the way that brings you the most happiness. People will see what they want to see, Morgana, but their opinion means little in the grand scheme of things. You'll always have your friends and family. I suppose you'll always have me too – unless you get tired of me that is."

He grinned wolfishly at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Morgana swatted his chest. "I just might if you behave like you did in the past."

"My lady," he cried, mocking offense, "I've only eyes for you." He stepped back and bowed spectacularly to her.

"I'm sure," she laughed.

Gwaine straightened, his silly grin disappearing as he took her hand. "You know I really do."

Her smile softened. "I know and, while I don't know why, I'm grateful."

Gwaine shrugged. "Nobody can explain love, Morgana. When it happens, it happens; best not to dwell too much on the why. Just accept what is and revel it in."

"Such a poet," she teased, kissing his cheek.

"Well, I try," he grinned. "Come on; I heard Harry saying that the house elves make a mean hot chocolate and I've been wanting to see if I can spike it with firewhiskey!"

Rolling her eyes, Morgana allowed him to cart her away, feeling happy for the first time since the events at Fawkham Green.

[][][]

Merlin ended up deciding not to fly very far, landing in a remote valley in between a set of mountains near the cave Sirius Black took shelter in several years ago. The dragon swiped his large tail and cleared the area so his king wouldn't sink up to his eyeballs in the winter wonderland and with a flash of his eyes he broke several large branches from the nearby pine trees and gathered them together. Taking a deep breath, his belly burned warm and fire escaped his great maw, enveloping the wood instantly in a burst of flame. Arthur slid out of the saddle and fell into the snow, landing on his feet. Merlin decided to transform, leaving the now gigantic saddle and harness in the snow to join his king by the fire.

Arthur sent him a concerned glance as he raised his gloved hands up to the warmth. "I don't know how you do it, Merlin, but your fires always seem to warm me from all sides even when half of me is facing the cold."

"I thought that would be obvious," the warlock teased, nudging his king, "seeing as it's magic and all."

Arthur rolled his eyes but they twinkled with amusement. The two sat down on a large log, their booted feet resting near the flames. Merlin felt the king's concerned gaze.

"Are you sure you're warm enough?" Arthur asked a minute later.

"I'm fine, really," Merlin answered. "Just because I'm wearing nothing but a sweater, trousers, and boots doesn't mean I'm freezing, Arthur. My magic is keeping me warm. Trust me, when I'm cold I'll turn back into a dragon."

Arthur sniffed a little before sighing. "Fair enough," he muttered. "So, are you going to tell me what's causing you to frown this time?"

Merlin sent him a small half-smile before it disappeared as he let all the air out of his lungs. "It's just hard," he mumbled, picking up a stick and prodding the fire with it. "I'm embarrassed," he confessed. "I'm renowned throughout the entire world and yet I was held captive by magicians whose magic normally can't even hold a candle to mine."

"Merlin, you were bound with your own magic," Arthur gently reminded. "It was the only way for the Death Eaters to keep you incarcerated. If they hadn't had those rune cuffs that you made, they wouldn't have been able to take you anywhere."

"That still doesn't change the fact that they imprisoned me, Arthur," Merlin griped. "They kept me chained up like some criminal and then -to add insult to injury- they tortured me with mediocre spells that actually hurt. I've always thought New magic was weak compared to the Old but under Rodolphus's _hospitality"_ – he spit out the word – "I learned differently."

Arthur was the only one brave enough to tell an ornery warlock what he really needed to hear and so the king decided to use his talent for bluntness and speak his mind. "Merlin, are you bitter because your ego was knocked down a few pegs? Because honestly I think you're pouting. The New magic may be less powerful than yours but when you were forced to face it without the aid of Old, you realized that it can be quite harmful. You got a taste for what _muggles_ " – it was Arthur's turn to spit out a term he didn't like – "have to deal with."

"But I'm not a muggle, Arthur!" Merlin snapped.

"And what's so wrong with not having magic?" the king snapped back.

"Nothing," Merlin said quickly, realizing his offense.

"Really?" Arthur grumbled bitterly, "Because it seems like your lot frown upon people who don't have it. It's almost like they treat us like we're some kind of _joke._ "

"Since when have I been part of _their_ lot?" Merlin asked, hurt. "Arthur, I will never treat you as if you were some lower life form."

 _"You_ might not but _others_ …" the king shook his head, "Look, we're not here to talk about me. This is about you."

"Well you're part of what I'm worrying about," Merlin sighed. "The world we live in today is a divided one, Arthur, and it's much bigger than the one we remember. Technology has made it possible to travel from one side of the globe to another in the course of a few hours. People can communicate in a way we never even dreamed. You and I have become nothing but legends – stories – in the minds of men. Now we're back and Destiny expects us to restore magic to Albion again. Do you know how big the world is now? It's going to take a lifetime visiting every magical and nonmagical community and convincing the muggles that sorcerers are real and that the two peoples need to live in peace. I don't know if we can do it. Not to mention I'm overwhelmed because everyone seems to look at me as if I have all the answers. I may have lived for hundreds of years and I may know a thing or two but I've never attempted to make myself known to the world before. How can I ask the magical communities to step out of hiding when I have been doing that very thing myself for hundreds of years? I know what it's like, living in fear. Witches and wizards are terrified that they will be hunted and prosecuted; treated differently than those without their gifts. How can we help them overcome those fears? And, adding to that, billions of people believe magic is nothing more than fairytales to entertain children and dreamers for hours on end. When they find out its real, it'll cause nothing but terror. I've seen what fear can motivate men to do, Arthur. You saw what it did to Uther. I'm afraid that if I step into the light and ask others to do the same that some moron will start another Purge. Heck, I can even see your father being the leader of the campaign now that he has his memories back!"

Though he didn't want to admit it, Arthur shared these concerns. Their task did seem quite impossible but, then again, restoring magic to the land and uniting the kingdoms under one rule had been considered impossible too in the past. Perhaps they needed to have faith that what happened before could happen again. There was the famous phrase: 'History repeats itself.'

"Merlin, how did you feel after we established Albion the first time?"

The warlock seemed surprised by the question but answered anyway. "Happy, obviously. I'd waited years for that stupid prophecy to finally happen. When it did I felt like I was living a dream."

"I've never been happier," Arthur admitted.

"Me either," Merlin smiled.

The king picked up a nearby stick and prodded the fire, letting out a heavy sigh. "You and I both know what the Old Religion wants us to do, Merlin. It's what we were born to do. It's the reason I was _reborn_ and you were kept alive for all these years. We've been given another lifetime – you your last it seems – to once again restore magic to the world where it belongs. It was never meant to remain hidden but people retreated into that mindset again during the witch hunts. The views of men today, I think, are more understanding than they were during the dark ages. People may be afraid but I also think they would be more understanding. Magic isn't some disease that needs to be eradicated or shunned; it's a gift, a talent, that should be accepted and utilized in society. You and I have seen what magic can do. The others from our time have too. All of us have a part to play in this. Even if my father ends up being the main advocate against us we must stand and fight for what we know can only bring peace and happiness to the world. It might take a lifetime but I'm willing to die fighting for a cause I know will brighten the world in a way that hasn't been seen for centuries."

Merlin stared at Arthur with that familiar look of pride and awe that usually followed after he did or said something praiseworthy. A large grin spread across the warlock's face.

"You know, we have a long way to go before we reach world peace, Arthur. That's never been done before."

"I'm not talking about world peace; only God can accomplish that with how many idiots there are in this world. What I'm talking about is making it brighter the only way we know how," Arthur revised. "Many great men and women have influenced and changed the world. We'll merely add our names to that list."

"We're technically already on it. Would it be pompous to add ourselves again?"

Arthur rolled his eyes at the warlock's cheeky grin. "No because most people think we're nothing but fabled legends. No, Merlin, I envision us being on that list as a _reality_ this time. No one is going to forget us or mistake us for some children's fairytale ever again. When our lives end, we will have changed the world. I'm sure of it."

"Well, no pressure then," the warlock mused, stretching back slightly. "Where do you suggest we start?"

"Like I said, first we need to get married."

"Um, gee, Arthur, I know this is a nice setting and all, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to refuse your proposal - my heart already belongs to someone else."

The king hit Merlin over the head. "Not me, you idiot!" he snapped, flustered. "To even suggest such an audacious –!"

"Hey, it's more acceptable in the world now than in our time," Merlin replied with a grin and a shrug.

"And I'm not condemning those people. I just want it clear that you and I have _never_ nor will we _ever_ have that kind of a relationship!" Arthur snapped, fuming.

Merlin chuckled. "Good because I think Gwen would be rather disappointed if you fawned over me in that way. It would also be unrequited since Freya captured my heart the moment I laid eyes on her."

Arthur groaned. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

"You're the one who brought up getting married."

"To our future wives not to each other!"

"You didn't specify that."

"It was _implied_!"

"Well, _assuming_ is never a good thing, Arthur."

" _Mer_ lin."

"Shut up?"

The king glared at his Court Sorcerer before clearing his throat. "As I was _saying_ , we first need to get married - _to the women we're currently dating-_ and then I think we should start meeting with the magical leaders of the world to propose the idea of omitting the Statute of Secrecy."

Merlin thought about this. It made sense after all. The rumors of his specific return were spreading like wildfire throughout every magical community on the planet. He wouldn't be surprised if Britain soon became overrun with visiting witches and wizards intending to see him for themselves.

"That would probably be a good idea," he admitted. "We'd have to start small though."

"We'll meet with them and then propose the idea of magicians and muggles working together as a team," Arthur mused. "If the action is proved successful then we can move to proposing further ideas of integrating magic into regular society. It's going to be a slow process but that's how we did it before. We wiggled magic into the lives of the common folk until eventually people accepted it as part of every day life."

"And magic is already something that entertains people," Merlin added. "Well, the sleight-of-hand stuff. They're tricks and illusions but those things are highly accepted in muggle society."

"And fantasy books involving magic and dragons are fairly popular," said Arthur with a smile. "Not to mention that even though real magic has faded back into myth, everyone in both the muggle and magical world knows your name, Merlin, and that you were a sorcerer. There's even a Disney movie about us – even if it's horrifically inaccurate. Hey, wait a minute – _Archimedes is in that movie!"_

Merlin shifted back and forth, a nervous chuckle on his lips. "Oh, um, really? I don't remember that – must have forgotten about it – it's been years since I've seen it."

 _"Mer_ lin?" Arthur's tone was full of suspicion as he narrowed his eyes at his warlock. "You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

The warlock sent him a nervous grin; the kind he showed when he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Well... I may or may not have influenced the writers' imagination when I got wind that they were making a film," he hedged.

Arthur scowled. "You may or may not have, huh?" His tone darkened as his eyes flashed dangerously. "So you may or may not have influenced Disney to make it so that I was an orphan, grew up as a _servant_ , looked like a twig, and followed you around on ridiculous magical adventures with an irate talking owl?"

Merlin's grin was large, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well," he laughed, "I may have given them some ideas but I left most of it up to their imagination."

"What ideas exactly were yours?" the king demanded, his irritation growing.

"Let's see... Archimedes, obviously; he was so adamant that I should work out a way to get him into the movie. Oh! I thought it would be fun to play up the Dragoon- like character, you know, snarky old man with a long white beard and such... hmmm… ahhh yes! I suppose I should also take the credit for suggesting you as a scrawny blonde boy with much to learn."

Merlin wouldn't have been surprised to see the king spitting fire as he raged, "I am _not_ scrawny, _Mer_ lin!"

"You were scrawny in maturity when we first met."

"You weren't an old man!"

"No but it was rather funny," the warlock snickered. "Come on, Arthur, you have to admit that movie is hilarious!"

After a moment of pouting the king rolled his eyes and sighed, "I always thought it was ridiculous as a child. It didn't make any sense to me. You know, even when I saw all these depictions of the great wizard Merlin as an old man I instinctively knew they were wrong."

"Oh, but I suppose King Arthur was always strong with the body of a supermodel," Merlin teased.

"Of course!" Arthur replied with false bravado. "How else would the greatest king in history be depicted?"

"As a man who is terrified of killer rabbits and can only kill them with a holy hand grenade."

The king burst out laughing and Merlin soon joined him, the sound echoing in the clearing around them. For the next few minutes a slew of quotes ensued from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, both warlock and king chortling heartily over the utter ridiculousness and brilliance of the plot.

"Did you influence that one too?" Arthur wondered amidst their laughter.

Merlin held up a hand, leaving a small space between his finger and thumb as he grinned, "Maybe a little bit."

"Do I even want to know?" asked the king humorously.

Merlin shook his head. "Some things are better left unsaid. But I might have influenced the conversation about the sparrows."

This only brought on another round of laughter that only stopped when both of them were beginning to suffer from stomach cramps. "That's it," Arthur chuckled, "when we have a dull moment, we're watching that film. I want to see the others reactions in person."

Merlin's laugh was deep as he heartily agreed. "It'll be the best movie night I've ever been too."

"I'm sure I'll be able to say the same," Arthur grinned.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence before Merlin let out a contented sigh. "Thank you, Arthur. I needed this."

The king smiled. "You're feeling better then?"

Merlin nodded. "I'm sure there will be other times but, yes, for now I am."

"We'll do this as many times as you need, Merlin," Arthur promised.

The warlock sent his king a grateful glance before standing up and stretching. "We've been here for quite a while. We should probably head back."

"Are you sure?" Arthur pressed. He didn't want Merlin to push himself into doing something he didn't want to do.

The warlock thought it over for a moment before slowly nodding. "I think I'll be okay. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Are you just saying that or do you really mean it?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I mean it. I'll send you a telepathic message."

"You know, even though I find it weird that we can do that in this lifetime I think it's really going to come in handy." He paused and finished telepathically, _"Especially when we're in a room with a bunch of magical leaders and feel the need to converse privately to express opinions."_

Merlin nodded and answered within the king's mind, _"That's a great point. Come on, we should get back. I've been listening to your stomach growl for the last half hour."_

Arthur looked indignant as he shouted aloud, "It has not!"

"Has so," Merlin replied with a chuckle.

Arthur's stomach betrayed him right in that moment, grumbling loudly in protest and desire for food. The king scowled at it before sending the frown towards his amused Court Sorcerer. "Oh, shut up, Merlin and take us back to the castle already."

The grin on Merlin's face remained even after he transformed back into a dragon, his black lips pulled in a draconic smile displaying rather terrifying teeth. Ignoring him, Arthur hoisted himself into the saddle and strapped himself in. Merlin doused the magical fire with a flash of his eyes before taking off into the lightly drifting snow.

It didn't take long to get back to the castle but the ride was prolonged a little due to some intricate aerial moves insisted by a rather gleeful king. Merlin loved hearing Arthur laugh, feeling his joy and excitement over this unique kind of freedom. There had been so many times in the past when Merlin had felt depressed as Arthur adamantly refused to ride him or Aithusa. He should have thought of the saddle ages ago; then he and Arthur could have done this more often. It was a unique experience that only the two of them shared and a selfish part of the warlock wanted it to remain that way. If it came down to it, he'd allow others to ride him during a time of emergency – like before when he had to get everyone away from Azkaban – but for every other occasion, he just wanted it to be Arthur.

After pulling out of a remarkable dive that left the king behind him pink-faced and grinning like a loon, Merlin decided it was time to head home. He knew that even though Arthur was enjoying himself that food would eventually replace his fun and he didn't want to spoil the mood. Turning his large body for home, the dragon flapped his wings in several mighty strokes, the winter chill barely noticed against his hardened scales as he rocketed forward. The village of Hogsmeade passed quickly beneath them and soon the familiar spires and towers of Hogwarts appeared, Merlin and Arthur both able to see the original Camelot despite years of adjustments to the castle.

Merlin circled the tall spires twice before angling down for the courtyard. After practicing for months the warlock had perfected being able to land in a straight downward line; the first few times he'd nearly demolished half the courtyard, much to Arthur's chagrin. Gently descending, Merlin became aware that they had a small audience though Arthur had yet to see the gathering. Wondering why the Minister of Magic was present, Merlin landed in the snow and folded his mighty wings against his body.

After removing Excalibur – Arthur's ever present security blanket as it were – the king leapt from the saddle and landed perfectly in the snow now up to his knees. Brushing some of the snow off his front Arthur wadded a little away from Merlin so as not to be clipped in the head with a wing or something as the dragon transformed back into a warlock. After shrinking the saddle and pocketing it, Merlin shook his shoulders before joining the king in the trek towards the gathered group consisting of knights, witches, wizards, and the Minister.

"You two returned sooner than we thought," Gwen commented as she hugged Arthur in greeting.

"Merlin was hungry."

"Oi! You were the one whose stomach wouldn't stop growling," Merlin objected.

A rather loud noise erupted then but instead of coming from the king, it came from the warlock. Merlin looked down at his stomach and scowled. "Traitor," he muttered as Arthur laughed.

"Come on, let's get out of this blasted weather and get you two something to eat," Gwen said as she practically forced Merlin and Arthur inside past the rather amused group of people.

Once they were settled in the Great Hall with two steaming bowls of soup before the king and warlock, Merlin glanced up at the Minister of Magic with a silent sense of foreboding.

"So, Kingsley, what brings you here?" he asked, trying to sound conversational instead of apprehensive.

The dark-skinned wizard held a prominent frown and was rather reluctant to answer. "It isn't pleasant news," he said, confirming Merlin's anxiety.

"What is it?" asked Arthur.

"I know the situation is still fresh in your mind, Merlin, but we can't hold off the trial for Rodolphus Lestrange any longer," Kingsley revealed. "We need you and the others to testify against him."

Merlin's pale figure turned white as he tried to swallow past what felt like a Quaffle in his throat. "Right," he muttered, his eyes lowering to his soup.

How typical that the moment he started feeling somewhat comfortable something like this would happen. His mind started to retreat to that horrible incident and he nearly missed Arthur's protective protest.

"Can't they have a trial without Merlin's confession?" the king demanded, forgetting his soup entirely as he thought only of his friend.

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sorry. I tried to keep him out of this but the Wizengamot–"

"I'm sorry, the what?" Gwaine interrupted.

"The Wizengamot," Hermione repeated in typical Hermione fashion. "It's Britain's high court of law for witches and wizards. It was actually instated back in the days of the Medieval Wizard's Council."

Merlin snorted. "Wizard's Council indeed! Those idiots didn't even know what they were doing half the time."

"You knew them?" asked Tonks curiously.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Of course I did – not that they knew who I really was, mind you. I participated in their council disguised as Dragoon - though I used a different name than that at the time. They voted me out for being too eccentric; guess they didn't like anyone pushing for muggles and magicians living in peace."

Arthur shared an amused glance with Gwaine before clearing his throat and bringing the subject back on point. "So this high court of law you have demands that Merlin be present at Lestrange's trial?"

"Not just Merlin," Kingsley sighed. "They want _all_ of you there. They feel that the world has a right to know what exactly happened Christmas Day. I've been trying to keep the press from sticking their nose in but word is eventually going to get out. I'm sorry, Merlin. Lestrange has assured me that he will happily tell any reporter what he did to you. He might spread around falsehoods and, though it was a terrible ordeal, it might be best getting the truth than filling the world with possible lies."

Merlin's shoulders were slumped and his eyes downcast. He could feel everyone looking at him before he felt the gentle push against his mind, the familiar aura accompanying it causing him to open the link without hesitation.

" _Are you sure you want to do this? You don't owe this world a thing, Merlin."_

" _Arthur, you know that they'll just make something up if they don't hear the truth. Besides, Kingsley is right; Lestrange has no qualms boasting about his actions. He considers breaking people an accomplishment and the fact that he broke me, the Great Merlin, is the pinnacle of his work. He's not going to keep that to himself."_

" _He didn't break you, Merlin. If he had, you wouldn't be going to the trial."_

" _How did you know I'd already decided to go?"_

" _Please, do you really have to be an idiot right now? I've known you for years. You're not one to run and cower. This may be the worst thing that's ever happened to you but you're not a coward."_

" _I feel like one… I really don't want to go, Arthur."_

" _But you're going anyway?"_

"… _yes…"_

" _Alright, if that's your decision, then I'll be right beside you. And if that Death Eater so much as tries to harm you in any way, I'll behead him right then and there with Excalibur."_

" _Arthur, you can't go around killing people."_

" _I can if they're psychotic sadists!"_

" _Oh, relax. Though I'm touched by your over protectiveness, I'd rather the law sentence the man than an angry king."_

Their conversation was interrupted by Gwaine who slammed his fist down on the table with all the force he could muster. King and warlock leapt out of their skin, looking around wildly for some kind of threat before noticing the slightly concerned and curious stares heading their way.

"We've been trying to get your attention for a full minute," Harry explained, concerned.

"Oh, sorry," Merlin muttered. "Arthur was talking to me."

Leon shared a raised eyebrow with Lancelot while Percival said, "But neither of you were saying anything."

"Apparently Arthur has been gifted with a similar talent the druids possessed," Merlin grinned. "We can talk telepathically."

"What?!" the cry came from multiple sources, the Camelotians being the most surprised.

"How is that possible?" asked Morgana.

"The druids could communicate telepathically?" Hermione wondered, fascinated.

"Yes, Hermione, they could," Merlin answered, "and as to your question, Morgana, I think it has to deal with the link Arthur and I share. I'm just guessing here but I think that when Arthur was reborn he was given this ability."

"Does that make him magical then?" asked Elyan.

Arthur frowned and experienced a silent feeling of anxiety. It wasn't that he hated magic or anything; he was just terrified of having it himself. Merlin was the one who was the magician not him!

The witches and wizards looked to Merlin who was studying Arthur. "Arthur, give me your hand."

"What?"

"Give me your hand."

The king started to scowl. "I'm not about to hold your hand, _Mer_ lin!"

"Oh just shut up and give me your hand, you prat!"

And without waiting, Merlin reached over and grabbed it instead. Arthur's scowl deepened but he didn't pull away. Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, they flashed a brilliant gold eliciting an unconscious gasp from the few gathered Order members and teachers.

"Well?" Gaius prompted as soon as Merlin let go.

"I have some bad news, Arthur," Merlin said grimly.

 _"What?"_ Arthur breathed as everyone leaned in closer.

Merlin heaved a wary sigh."I'm afraid you're still a nonmagical prat."

While his body inwardly relaxed, Arthur smacked his best friend upside the head. "You idiot!"

Laughing and rubbing the smart, Merlin continued, "The telepathic connection is only something you can do with me; a link, if you will. Other than that you don't have a trace of magic inside you."

"Thank goodness," Arthur murmured. "Magic is your forte, Merlin, not mine."

"Besides, I'm sure that Arthur would be the worst wizard alive if he did have magic," Gwaine teased.

While everyone laughed, Arthur scowled.

Kingsley was the one who had the unfortunate job of sobering the mood. Letting out a heavy sigh, he caught Merlin's eye and restated his presence. "The trial is to be held tomorrow, Merlin. I don't want to order you to come."

"Excuse me, Minister, but I'm afraid you don't have the authority to do that. Only I can order Merlin around," Arthur interjected, his tone daring the Minister to challenge that fact.

Kingsley was usually not a man to cross but the same could be said of King Arthur and the wizard had a feeling that when it came down to it, Arthur would win when it came to what happened to Merlin. Who was he to go up against such a legendary figure anyway?

"Then I suppose I will simply ask," the Minister sighed. "Will you come, Merlin?"

Ignoring his inner desire to scream 'NO', the warlock resigned himself to the inevitable. "Yes, I'll come."

"Then we'll come too," Morgana stated before the others could.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Ron asked hesitantly, flinching when the brunette's intimidating green eyes landed on him.

"The wizarding world needs to know that I'm no longer the evil witch they believe me to be," she stated. "Besides I'm a key witness to what happened in that house."

"I want Morgana there," Merlin said with finality.

Kingsley shared a nervous glance with Tonks before giving in. "Alright. The trial starts at ten in the morning. Would you like an escort like last time?"

To this, Merlin grinned mischievously. "Don't concern yourself with that, Minister. We'll manage to find our way."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Gwaine mumbled under his breath.

Kingsley either didn't hear the knight or he ignored the question. "Very well, then, I will see you tomorrow. I'd stay but I have to get back to the Ministry."

With a final nod, the Minister took his leave and Arthur and Merlin went back to their soup.

* * *

 **I didn't want to put any spoilers at the beginning so I'll put the disclaimer here at the end:**

 **I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, Disney's The Sword in the Stone, or Monty Python and the Holy Grail.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this little filler. It was needed in order to transition into the next part and, what can I say, I love Arthur and Merlin bromance too much to leave it alone. :) Reviews are lovely! (Seriously, when are they not?) Cheers!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey guys! First off, thanks as always for the reviews! I really appreciate them. I would have posted this sooner but I have family in Florida and so my emotions were a roller coaster there for a while with Hurricane Matthew. My relatives are fine, thank goodness! I'm going on vacation so I might not post anything for about two weeks - we'll see how busy I am - but I thought I'd give this to all you wonderful people before I take off. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

24: Too Precious to Lose

After finishing his soup, Merlin couldn't handle being around so many people any longer. Though he loved everyone present, he just felt the need to get away. He made a hasty exit with the excuse that he'd 'forgotten to do something.' He was out of the Hall before the others could properly bid him goodbye although Arthur managed to tell him through telepathy that if he needed him, all he had to do was call. The warlock merely glanced back and nodded to the concerned king before disappearing out the double doors. He made it all the way up the staircase when someone cleared their throat from the bottom.

"Merlin?"

Merlin swallowed as his heart automatically began to ache. Turning around, he stared down at a man he truly thought he'd never see again. Though his hair was now short and a permanent pair of black glasses sat over his nose, the eyebrow, the voice, and the mannerisms were all the same.

Merlin's voice was shaky as he answered, "Yes, Gaius?"

He waited as the older man – with remarkable agility – mounted the staircase, reaching the upper level in very little time. Gaius was studying Merlin with his famous eyebrow, seeing his soul in a way only Gaius and his mother managed to; and Arthur, after _years_ of practice that is. A pregnant moment passed before Gaius opened his arms and the last ounce of Merlin's strength left him. Tears already pouring down his face, Merlin launched himself into his surrogate father's arms and cried.

"My boy," Gaius muttered, patting Merlin's back soothingly, "My boy."

The aching in Merlin's heart increased. "Gaius," he sobbed, "I'm so s-sorry!"

"For what?"

Merlin pulled away, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I've been avoiding you," he mumbled.

"Yes but I can understand why."

The warlock looked up, surprised. "You can?"

Gaius smiled sadly. "Merlin, not only have I known you for a long time but I also happen to have a minor in psychology in this lifetime. The burdens you've had to carry; it's no wonder you're having a hard time getting over what's happened to you."

Merlin sniffled. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more private? I… I don't wish to be overheard."

Agreeing, Gaius followed him down the splendid halls toward his private tower. Minutes later the two stopped at the end of a corridor on the fourth floor and Merlin rested his hand against what appeared to be a blank wall. The stones wiggled and a doorway appeared, revealing a handsome spiral staircase with a hand-carved wooden rail, the end sporting the Pendragon crest. Merlin led the way up the steps into a beautiful circular chamber filled with books, tapestries, centuries of collectible items, a grand piano, and three large windows. Another staircase on the other side of the room hugged the wall, leading to his private bedroom.

Maneuvering around several piles of precariously stacked books, Merlin settled in his favorite chair near the fireplace, indicating for Gaius to sit in the other next to him. After being seated, the old man studied the ancient warlock over a pair of threaded fingers with a knowing stare.

Merlin sighed and attempted to start the conversation politely. "Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Right," the warlock muttered, "what do you want me to say, Gaius?"

"Anything you like, Merlin."

Merlin scoffed. "You know, I have a degree in psychology myself. I know what I'm doing – and it frustrates me because I _know_ what I can do to _fix_ it! But–"

"–It's harder when you're the patient and not the doctor," Gaius finished.

" _Exactly!"_ Merlin groaned, resting his head in his hands. Speaking to the floor, he continued in a subdued tone, "I've lived for a long time, Gaius; longer than any man has a right to live in such a terribly cruel world. I have seen famines, natural disasters, wars, hatred… and through most of it I've also had to battle against my own inner demons. I have had to watch as everyone I knew faded away. The only thing that kept me going was the promise that Arthur would return to me and sometimes even that wasn't enough. I tried to kill myself, Gaius, many times – my younger self tried anyway, when I was thrust into the future without a clue as to _why_. That was the darkest time of my unfortunately long life. I had to live with the understanding that everyone I knew and loved was gone. Then, when we returned to the past, I had to live it all over again. I… I don't think I have the strength to go through with losing you for a third time, Gaius. I… my heart might break forever this time."

Merlin's throat was raw and the last few words were choked out between heavy sobs. He'd been keeping this inside for so long. Besides Arthur rejecting him, living alone _again_ after reuniting with everyone was his biggest fear.

Gaius grasped Merlin's hands in his own. "Merlin, my boy, I won't even try to say I can empathize with you since I've never lived an immortal life. But I know a thing or two about outliving someone I care about. Remember when I lost Alice?"

Merlin nodded while choking back another sob. "She died only a year after returning to Camelot, after the removal of the ban."

Gaius's eyes shone with unshed tears and his voice was thick as he muttered, "I lost her again, Merlin. She passed away two months ago to cancer."

Merlin gasped. "I'm so sorry, Gaius! I didn't know."

"It's alright, Merlin," he said with a sad smile. "She'd been fighting the disease for years. We were happily married in our twenties but we never had any children. My life had honestly lost quite a bit of purpose until I followed Uther here to Britain. Merlin, there's something I've been meaning to tell Arthur but due to everything that's happened it has – I regret to say – slipped my mind until now."

"What is it?" Merlin asked, concerned over the physician's sudden display of urgency.

"Uther is dying," Gaius revealed.

 _"What?"_

"He has the same thing Alice did: stage four cancer. Based off his medical records, I suspect he will be gone in two months."

"That's why he came to London," Merlin muttered, realization dawning, "this was going to be his last Christmas with Arthur."

Gaius nodded gravely. Letting out a regretful sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "He had hoped to make this last Christmas with his son the best he could give."

"But then his memories returned, because of me."

"Merlin, don't you dare blame yourself! You have plenty of other things to be getting on with. I'm grateful that Uther and I regained our memories. I would have missed seeing you again, my boy, and that would have been a light at the end of my life that I never would have known had I not followed Uther on that plane. I am sorry to see how much you have suffered though, Merlin. I wish there was some way I could fix all of this."

Merlin's smile was small but genuine as he answered, "You're already doing that, Gaius. I just need time, that's all – well, time and good company."

"Even if you don't occasionally want the latter," Gaius guessed.

Merlin nodded, "Yes… even then." He let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know if I have the strength to face tomorrow."

"I have all faith that you'll be able to do it, Merlin," his guardian said with conviction. "You are the greatest of us all, after all."

"Yes, most powerful warlock to ever live, I know," Merlin mumbled.

"That's not what I meant," Gaius gently replied. "Merlin, you are a rarity among men, a being that possesses a tender and forgiving heart, a willing and compassionate mind, and an integral soul. Through the ages man has been exposed to violence, bigotry, and selfishness. But you," he paused to smile fondly at the ancient one, "you are one who brings the light that chases the darkness away. And when others experience that light, it brings out their own. I may not know the witches and wizards you have befriended but I can see how your unique spirit has influenced them. The prophecies were correct that you are the most powerful warlock to ever live but that power is not who you are. It's what's in here that makes you the greatest man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." – Gaius rested the tip of his index finger over Merlin's heart. – "It is here that you will find the strength you need to face the fears that plague you tomorrow. The darkness you experienced will pass, Merlin, because it cannot bear to last in the light of who you are."

Warmth cascaded from Merlin's bosom, extending outwards to the tips of his fingers and toes. It filled every inch of his soul and a contentment he hadn't felt in days washed over him. A true smile spread all the way up to his eyes and without thinking he left his chair and wrapped his arms around the man he'd always looked to as a father. Gaius's weathered hands patted his back in soothing circles, holding him close for as long as was needed.

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin whispered, still clinging to him. "I had almost forgotten myself."

"I would never allow that to happen to you, my boy," Gaius whispered, "you are too precious to lose."

Merlin closed his eyes but the tears still leaked out from the corners. What had possessed him to avoid Gaius? He was exactly what he'd needed! Arthur and the others had done wonders but none were able to be a parent to the warlock and sometimes, though it is not often admitted, parents are the solution to the aching of the heart.

"I don't want to lose you, Gaius," Merlin whispered, sounding very much like the young boy who'd first entered the physician's chambers all those years ago.

"You never truly lost me, Merlin," Gaius soothed. "Though I was physically gone, I lived on in your memories and in the things I taught you. And now fate has given me a second chance to be with you in your final years on earth. Your immortality here is at an end and one day, when it is time for you to leave this world, you'll go to Avalon where life is devoid of sorrow and grief. I somewhat remember my time there, Merlin. It was the most glorious place I have ever been. One day you will see it for yourself. One thing I can assure you of, my boy, is that this life is not the end. It is merely a stepping stone to greater and better things, an eternal journey of discovery and joy, one that you will never have to walk alone. Everyone you love will be at your side and you will forget the pain and sorrow you suffered here."

Merlin listened in rapture, his mind unable to fathom such a miracle. "When you put it that way, death doesn't sound so bad."

Gaius smiled kindly. "You do not need to fear death, Merlin. It is the doorway to the greatest adventure man can travel."

"And I won't be alone," Merlin whispered, thinking of Arthur, Freya, Gwen, Gaius, the knights, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else he'd come to know in his long life. A large smile filled his whole countenance and when he looked back up at Gaius, he found his joy reflected in the physician's eyes. "I'd like that," he said, unaware that different tears, happy tears, were falling from his eyes. "I'd like that very much."

Gaius was also crying as he chuckled," Indeed, Merlin. Indeed."

[][][]

"Rise and shine!"

Arthur's snore was cut short as he twisted around in his sheets at the sudden onslaught of white light blinding his retinas.

"Merlin!" he complained groggily, reflexively yanking his covers over his head and burrowing further into his pillows – that is, until reality caught up with him. _Wait a minute!_ Throwing the covers aside, the king looked around until he found his Court Sorcerer wandering about his room, setting his newly-polished armor on the table while humming.

Merlin was humming.

A grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat spread over Arthur's face. "Merlin!" he called happily.

The Court Sorcerer looked his way with a deep smile, his blue eyes twinkling with life and light. Arthur's happiness surged at the sight; he had been afraid it would take months before that familiar spark returned.

"Are you alright, Arthur?"

Arthur coughed to hide his smile. "Fine, why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," Merlin smirked before looking at the impressive spread of armor. "Right, everything should be here. You'll want to get up and get ready. We don't have long before we need to be on our way."

"Right, the trial!" Arthur exclaimed, suddenly remembering. Pushing the covers aside, he got out of bed and shivered as the cold stone connected with his feet.

Chuckling, Merlin pointed to his bath tub. A welcome steam was curling slowly from the surface of the hot water. Without hesitation Arthur shrugged out of his night clothes and got in, relishing the warmth with a contented sigh.

"You know, Merlin, showers may be nice but _nothing_ compares to a bath," he said.

"I'd have to agree with you there," Merlin laughed. "Just wait until I introduce you to the Prefect's bathroom."

"The what?"

"It's a bathroom that can only be used by Prefects and Quidditch Captains," Merlin said. When Arthur continued to look confused, the warlock elaborated, "Prefects are model students that help the staff maintain the peace."

"Oh," Arthur muttered, finally understanding. "They have their own bathroom?"

Merlin shrugged. "Special privileges for good behavior I suppose."

"Hmmm," Arthur mused.

"You'd like it," Merlin continued, "The bathroom, I mean. The bathtub is huge and it has close to a hundred different faucets that each squirt out their own kind of soap."

"Right, it's highly probable that this trial is sure to fill me with anxiety and frustration. I'm going to need a bath after it's over," Arthur decided. "Make the preparations, would you?"

Merlin snorted before sharing an amused grin with his king. "I'm sure that'll be easy to do so, Arthur. Now, I've distracted you long enough. Finish getting ready so I can help you into your armor."

"Fine, fine," Arthur muttered, dunking his head under to wet his hair. Returning to the surface, he caught Merlin making his bed the old fashioned way; he was humming again. "Merlin?"

The warlock paused. "Yes Arthur?"

"You're alright now?"

Merlin grinned. "Yes, Arthur, I think I am."

The king's face softened. "I'm glad."

"Me too."

The two shared a large smile before getting on with their morning.

[][][]

Half an hour later Arthur stood in the Entrance Hall with Merlin, Guinevere, Freya, Morgana, the knights, the Golden Trio, and two members of the Order, Tonks and Percy Weasley. All of the knights were sporting their finest chainmail, the ladies of old wearing splendid gowns fitting that era, and Merlin stood in his Court Sorcerer attire: dark trousers and boots, a lovely blue tunic, and a black vest. Silver buckles in the shape of dragons ran down the sides of the vest and boots, complimenting his identity as a Dragonlord. A trademark red neckerchief was tucked into the vest, darker swirling patterns embroidered in the rich red fabric. Compared to the modern witches and wizards, Merlin and his group looked liked they'd stepped right out of a fairytale.

"Wow," Ron muttered in awe as he watched the Camelotians gather together.

Merlin fiddled with his long sleeves for a moment before glancing up at his modern friends. "We thought we'd make a dramatic entrance," he explained, noticing their questioning eyebrows.

"Well, you'll definitely achieve that," Tonks stated.

"Do you think it necessary, Merlin?" asked Gaius who had opted not to go with the others; he was feeling a little under the weather and thought it best to stay in the castle than to magically travel the great distance.

"I'm sure there are many who still doubt who we are," said Merlin. "We have to change that, Gaius, if Albion is to succeed again."

The old physician nodded. "Alright then; but, please, be careful. You're not immortal anymore."

Merlin smiled. "Don't worry, Gaius. Old magic trumps New, remember?"

Gaius raised his famous disapproving eyebrow. "Even so, it would be unwise to underestimate it, Merlin."

"We'll make sure to keep an eye on him, Gaius," Arthur assured while the knights nodded in agreement.

The physician sighed. He still looked concerned but he'd resigned himself long ago to the fact that trouble always found its way to these youngsters – not that Merlin was a youngster anymore; he was older than him now! Even so, he worried. Someone had to.

"Shall we be getting on then?" asked Tonks cheerfully. "We figured we'd arrive by floo powder this time–"

"Are you mad?" Merlin interrupted, scandalized by the very suggestion. "I spent _hours_ polishing Arthur's armor! There's no way I'm allowing him anywhere near a fireplace in this kind of getup!"

"Then how do you suggest we get there?" wondered Percy Weasley as Ron incredulously asked at the same time, "You spent hours polishing armor when you could have used magic? Why?"

Merlin shrugged. "I needed something to do with my hands – anyway, how about I take us there?"

Ron was eyeing Merlin as if he were barmy for not using magic to accomplish chores.

Arthur frowned. "Merlin, even when you were my servant you used magic to polish my armor."

"Only when I knew no one was looking," Merlin defended. "It's not that big of a deal, really."

The king wasn't the only one now eyeing the warlock with a suspicious glance.

"Did you not sleep last night?" asked Guinevere, hitting the nail on the head.

"I'm fine," Merlin insisted, dodging the question and confirming the answer to everyone.

"Merlin, mate, you should have at least taken a sleeping draught," said Gwaine.

The warlock folded his arms and scowled. "You all remember that there were several times I went for days with very little to no sleep."

"Yes, worrying about the kingdom," said Arthur with a frown. "And then after averting the danger you'd end up in something like a coma for a week!"

"That doesn't seem really healthy," Percy Weasley muttered.

Merlin growled. "Can we stop talking about my health? I'm perfectly fine. I just couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up."

Before anyone else could interrupt, Freya put in her two cents. "If Merlin says he's fine, then we should leave him alone. As touching as it is for all of us to be concerned about him, we should trust his judgment – until we see any outward signs of poor health. Then, _no matter what,_ " – she glared at Merlin as if daring for him to object – "we'll do what we feel necessary. Is that understood?"

The warlock looked as if he was about to protest but he quickly changed his mind when Freya's eyes flashed dangerously. "Alright, alright," he grumbled. "Can we go now?"

Arthur shared a surprised but amused grin with Gwaine. He'd never seen someone able to break Merlin from his stubborn determination before. The others were amused as well but kept their thoughts to themselves.

"Right, so, how are we getting there, Merlin?" asked Harry, deciding to spur things forward.

Merlin's grin was the only warning they had before his eyes flashed a brilliant shade of gold. The castle and surrounding atmosphere began to shimmer, blurring the world around them like a lake's surface rippling in a rainstorm. The dark colors of stone transformed to a rich variety of gold, brown, and blue before the entrance hallway of the Ministry of Magic came into focus like a microscope adjusting to the correct setting. The air pulsated with Merlin's magic, filling everyone in the group with a sense of contentment and awe. The warlock himself happily looked about before nodding to himself.

"I haven't done that in a long time," he said to Arthur, ignoring the gobsmacked expressions of the ministry workers lingering in the hallway that led to the Atrium where they had magically appeared.

"I've never experienced that before," replied Arthur, also ignoring the people around them. "When did you start doing that?"

Merlin shrugged. "Oh, several hundred years ago, give or take. It was long after you'd died. I got the idea from port keys; I hate the feeling they bring so I thought I'd create a gentler way to cover a vast amount of leagues in the space of very little time."

"Wish we could have used that when traveling to Iceland," Arthur mused.

A slight frown lowered Merlin's lips as he nodded in agreement. Arthur immediately regretted his words but Merlin brushed them aside by clapping his hands together and plastering a grin on his face. "Right, shall we?"

And without further ado, he started walking down the hall, ignoring those who were now whispering and eyeing their group with suspicion and excitement. In the small amount of time it took to get from one end of the hall to the other someone had alerted the press. A dozen witches and wizards were running towards them with cameras in their hands and quills at their fingertips.

"Oh great," Arthur grumbled, "not again."

Merlin glanced in amusement at the king. "Not a fan of publicity, sire?"

Arthur scowled. "Can't you do something? We're sure to miss the trial if they catch us now."

Merlin didn't even raise his hand but the magic that pulsated from his being shot out and created a tunneled barrier between them and the oncoming reporters. The first to reach it, a young witch with bright orange hair and rather fancy green robes, slammed into the barrier and fell backward into her peers, rubbing her now very red nose. Confused, her colleagues tapped the shimmering golden wall with their fingers; a series of ripples cascaded outwards before getting lost in the swirling magic. A few whipped out their wands and Arthur felt Merlin flinch beside him.

The king frowned as his Court Sorcerer swallowed uncomfortably before pretending to cheerfully wave at the reporters they passed; he also noticed that Merlin stayed as far away from the wands as possible as they walked by.

"I love Old Magic," Harry mutter somewhere behind them after they left a rather frustrated group of reporters behind and approached security.

The older wizard manning the desk stared at Merlin with apprehension. "Can I help you, sir?" he hesitantly asked, his eyes flashing temporarily to the swords resting on the hips of the knights before refocusing on the warlock.

"Yes, we have an appointment with the Wizengamot," Merlin said cheerfully. "Could you let us through?"

"Well – er – sure, I just need you to present your wands."

Merlin's grin widened. "That might be a problem seeing as I don't use one and most of my companions do not possess magic."

"Muggles? At the Ministry?" the wizard gasped, failing to keep himself from fully staring at the Camelotians now.

"That isn't going to be a problem, is it?" Merlin asked, his merry tone altering slightly with a hidden warning.

The poor man looked beside himself as he nervously answered, "I – I'm afraid it might be, sir. See, for security purposes–"

Tonks came forward then, deciding it was time to get involved. "Let them through, Danigan."

"Tonks," the man cried in relief, grateful to see a familiar face. "You know these people?"

"Yep," the Auror grinned, "and I highly suggest you let 'em through."

"But it's protocol to have one's wand checked," Danigan protested. "And seeing as there are _muggles_ present..."

Arthur's temper had reached its limit. Striding forward, he stopped in front of Danigan and sent him a glare that caused even Merlin to shut his mouth in the past. The poor wizard began to cower as Arthur inflicted him with the aura of power and authority belonging to the Once and Future King.

"We don't have time for this nonsense," he stated, keeping his tone short and clipped. "We have a trial to attend and you are causing us to be tardy. You have the assurance that we are trustworthy to enter your establishment by a known official. I suggest you heed that assurance and let us pass before you have to explain to the entire wizarding court why you refused to let us proceed past this point."

Completely shocked, the wayward wizard looked beside himself as to what to do. Merlin decided to come to his rescue.

"Arthur, stop terrifying the man," he scolded.

"I'm merely trying to make a point, Merlin," the king scowled. "We're going to be late."

"That doesn't give you the right to scare your way into the building. He's just trying to do his job."

Arthur scoffed, glaring at his friend. "We are about to meet a group of people that will hold heavy sway of how the future will turn out. The last thing I want is to give a bad impression!"

"Well you're doing a fine job of that already," the warlock commented, ignoring Arthur's indignant glare entirely to address the security wizard. "Sorry about him, he's not used to having to get permission to walk around."

Arthur scowled while Gwaine snickered somewhere behind him.

"What's the hold up?" someone shouted.

Arthur glanced back; they were causing a line to form. Guinevere placed a comforting hand on his forearm, her brown eyes asking him to exercise a little patience. The king sighed, facing forward.

After a little more persuasion from Tonks, Danigan let them pass, eying Merlin suspiciously while shrinking away under Arthur's angry stare. They reached the elevator and shuffled inside, the golden grills slamming shut with a clang behind them. Merlin began to shift back and forth; a nervous gesture. Arthur touched his forearm and sent him a reassuring glance.

" _Relax, Merlin. It's going to be fine."_

" _Arthur, this is the first time I'll have to face him since…"_

" _I'll be right beside you. He must face justice, Merlin, and your witness will make sure that happens. I know it's going to be difficult but this has to be done. You'll never fully heal if you don't do this."_

Merlin glanced at him before letting out a deep sigh. _"You know, I find it rather annoying when you're right."_

Arthur smirked. _"Now you know how I feel when you shower me with wisdom."_

" _Prat."_

" _Idiot."_

The grill slammed open then, revealing a dark corridor made of solid black stone. There was a plain black door at the end of the corridor but instead of heading in that direction as Arthur suspected, Tonks led the group to the left down a flight of stairs into a corridor sporting rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The few doors they passed were made of heavy wood with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Feels like we're back in Cenred's old dungeons," Elyan muttered to Guinevere.

Arthur had to agree. He didn't like the feeling of this place at all and, if their unease was anything to go by, the Golden Trio didn't either. Harry was looking incredibly pale, his green eyes shroud in a sorrow the king only associated with the mourning. It didn't escape his notice that Merlin sent the boy a sad, knowing glance. Filing this away for another time, Arthur shuffled with the others passed the flickering torches towards a door with an immense iron lock.

"Wait here," Tonks instructed before she and Percy Weasley headed inside.

Merlin took a deep breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. Freya soothed him by rubbing small circles against the back of his hand. Arthur unconsciously felt for Excalibur's hilt – just in case. They may be about to march into a battle of words but the king had learned long ago that it was unwise to enter such an atmosphere unarmed. A minute passed and then the door opened, revealing Tonks bright bubblegum pink hair.

"They're ready for you now," she said solemnly.

Merlin shared a glance with Arthur before squaring his shoulders and leading the way through the door, Freya at his side. Arthur's hand gravitated towards Guinevere's and the two entered with their heads held high, their countenances radiating with the nobility of their station. The knights followed behind them, each displaying their courage, support, and loyalty for the four individuals they shadowed, Morgana holding gallantly onto Gwaine's outstretched arm at the head of the party. Harry, Ron, and Hermione brought up the rear, grateful to be part of this awe-inspiring group but also apprehensive concerning what was about to take place.

Arthur's eyes widened as he took in the room. The walls were made of dark stone, torches dimly lighting the interior in a golden glow. Several rows of benches stood before them, seating a large gathering of what he assumed to be the entire body that made up the Wizarding Court. Each witch and wizard wore plum colored robes with some fancy silver W embossed into the left hand side of their chest. As something of a politician himself, Arthur found that he didn't like the setup at all. The raised benches suggested superiority instead of equality and the dimness of the chamber made him long for large stained-glass windows and much needed sunlight.

"Rather dismal, isn't it?" he muttered to Guinevere.

"My thoughts exactly," she whispered back.

In the center of the room was a chair, its arms covered in chains. Arthur frowned at the sight of the restraints but didn't comment. Merlin and Freya walked past the chair, stopping a few feet away from the nearest benches. Arthur and the others joined them on either side, the king, Guinevere, and the Trio standing to Merlin's right while the knights stood on Freya's left. They must have been an impressive sight judging by the disbelieving and curious looks of the gathered sorcerers in the room. It took a moment for Arthur to recognize Kingsley as the man in the center of the benches. The dark-skinned wizard caught his eye and nodded respectfully to him before beginning.

"Though the reason for this visit is not a pleasant one, we welcome you and your friends to the Ministry of Magic, Merlin Emrys."

Merlin nodded to him slightly, ignoring the quiet gasps and mutterings of the witches and wizards behind him. "Thank you, Minister. It has been many years since my last visit here. Much has changed."

"For the better, I hope," the Minister said conversationally, also ignoring the mutterings of his peers.

Merlin shrugged. "I haven't seen everything yet but the change in creating false windows that sport different types of weather is something nice – though I have to ask why that feature hasn't extended to this dismal courtroom?"

"The magic would have been a waste of time since this area is hardly used now-a-days," an older looking wizard with a large nose and fluffy tufts of white hair answered somewhere to Kingsley's left.

"I suppose you've got a point," Merlin mused in agreement.

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Though the current topic is rather pleasant, we unfortunately are here for another purpose."

"Of course," said Merlin with a slight incline of his head.

"We will begin the trial shortly," Kingsley promised, "the seats to the left are meant for you as the witnesses."

Merlin nodded to him and gestured for the others to follow towards the indicated benches he had pointed out. At the opening, Merlin stood off to the side and allowed Arthur and Guinevere to enter first, a custom the warlock had followed even though his status in their eyes was of equal if not greater value. Guinevere sent him a warm smile and Arthur patted Merlin fondly on the shoulder before the two royals took their place in the center of the benches. Merlin sat on Arthur's right with Freya next to him. The knights and Morgana sat down on the other side of the queen while Harry, Ron, and Hermione took up positions next to Freya.

There was a dull buzz of constant conversation in Arthur's ears directed towards them; something he was fairly used to as a king in a courtroom. It was clear that many of the Wizengamot wanted to press them with questions but the circumstance of their gathering prohibited such conversation from currently passing their curious lips. Deciding to disregard them, Arthur turned to Merlin who was holding Freya's hand so tightly that he was afraid she might lose all feeling in her fingers.

"Merlin," he gently coaxed, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine." The response was stiff, controlled.

Arthur had seen Merlin like this many times in the past. His shoulders were square, his eyes were set with determination, his knuckles were white, and his eyebrows were slightly creased. The tension coming from his Court Sorcerer was only present when he was preparing himself mentally for some kind of attack. Arthur could practically feel Merlin's magic coursing just beneath his skin, ready to strike out at even the smallest hint of danger. The king reached over and held the warlock's forearm. Merlin jumped but relaxed when he noticed it was only Arthur touching him.

" _It'll be alright," he silently comforted._

Merlin's outward appearance may have seemed the epitome of strength but his eyes betrayed his terror. He was scared and clearly conveying the desire to be anywhere but here. In that moment Arthur wished they hadn't come. His brother was still suffering, his morning cheer long gone in the face of what was about to happen, and the king was not pleased by this. Merlin was supposed to be happy, lighthearted, and carefree not burdened with fear, uncertainty, and a need to run. If the Wizengamot didn't give Lestrange the death sentence then the king might have to take matters into his own hands and do the deed himself. The man deserved it not only for the scars he'd inflicted upon Merlin but upon countless others.

Just when Arthur was contemplating asking Kingsley if they could postpone the trial a little longer the door opened and Merlin's entire body visibly shrunk as far away from the entrance as possible. The king filled with immediate rage towards the one who had caused this unconscious reaction in his warlock and made a silent vow to bring the monster to justice. Eyes full of hate, Arthur stared as Rodolphus Lestrange was led into the court room in chains.

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 **Next update will be the trial! I know there are several who expressed that Gaius is there favorite character and I feel my muse has neglected him long enough because I also think he's great. I plan on involving him a lot more in future chapters. Please review! They keep going! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Wow, I love the review response for the last chapter, guys! Thank you so much for your kind words concerning my relatives. I'm grateful to know that a few of you mentioned that you too were safe. My vacation is going well and I somehow managed to get this little thing up for you. I hope I did this justice and that you'll enjoy it. Courts are not really my thing so this was challenging for me. I hope it all makes sense and that you like it. Leave a review please!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

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25: The Trial

He was held between two Aurors, his wrists secured in cuffs emitting a soft golden glow. Though his pallid appearance betrayed the pitiful circumstances he'd lived in the last few days, Rodolphus Lestrange carried himself as a noble would. His shoulders were straight, his neck erect, and his footsteps confident. His impressive countenance also possessed a sense of superiority, displaying a man who cared little for those beneath him, who took pleasure preying on the weak. Arthur was immediately reminded of Cenred and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Rodolphus' dark eyes swiveled around to Merlin and a horrid glint sparked in them, his inner sadistic desires leaping unspoken as he sent the warlock the cruelest grin he could muster. Arthur's hand unconsciously went to Excalibur, his fingers tightening on the hilt. To his credit, Merlin did not outwardly react but the king could practically feel the inner tremors rippling through his frame anyway. Freya seemed to as well for she squeezed Merlin's fingers in reassurance. The warlock swallowed. Arthur chanced a glance at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The trio looked murderous, their eyes dark with anger and disgust for the man that was currently being shoved into the only chair in the middle of the room. Arthur knew they were angry concerning what Rodolphus had done to Merlin but he suspected there was more to their resentment than this offence.

Arthur, keeping his curiosity to himself for now, turned back just in time to see the chains attached to the chair snake around Rodolphus's ankles before joining with those already securing his wrists together. After checking to make sure the chains had done their work, the two unnamed Aurors stepped back and took their positions near the only exit, their wands out and at the ready, their eyes scrutinizing not only Rodolphus but the rest of the room's occupants.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Kingsley began, his voice hard and controlled, "you have been brought before this body to answer for the crimes you have committed since your breakout from the wizard prison, Azkaban, in nineteen ninety six. Few of your horrific deeds are known to this court since your escape but the most recent and pressing, being the kidnapping and torture of the infamous warlock, Merlin Emrys, we are aware of." – Merlin tried not to shift as every eye in the room flickered to him. – "We have asked him and others who have witnessed his torture to be present during this sentencing. We will first hear an account from the victim followed by several witnesses. After this, we will discuss your other known crimes, allow you to confess others, and then pass judgment. Merlin, if you will kindly step forward, please."

As Merlin stood so did Arthur.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Merlin whispered.

"I will not allow you to go anywhere near that man without me," the king stated.

"Is there a problem?" Kingsley prompted though, judging by his face, he had a pretty good idea what the delay might be.

"Merlin can either address you from where he is standing or I will accompany him to stand before the court," Arthur answered before Merlin could. It wasn't a request.

"Very well," Kingsley decided after several witches and wizards muttered in confusion.

As Arthur followed Merlin down from the stands to the main floor he caught the approving nods of his comrades. Guinevere and Freya sent him grateful smiles while Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked merely curious but accepting. The king felt a soft push against his mind and immediately responded the way Merlin had taught him, opening his mind by envisioning he was opening a door.

" _You didn't have to come with me,"_ Merlin said though he was grateful.

" _Of course I did,"_ Arthur replied protectively, _"I'm not about to give that beast of a man an opportunity to do something to you."_

" _He's chained up, Arthur. I don't think he's capable of doing anything."_

" _I'm not taking any chances so shut up and address the court."_

Merlin sighed. " _Yes, Your Royal Pratness."_

Merlin stopped four feet away from Lestrange, his whole body ridged with anxiety as the man's gloating smile attempted to catch his attention. Unlike Merlin, who was doing his best to ignore his existence, Arthur looked Rodolphus straight in the eye. Not caring that he had the attention of the entire court, the king unsheathed Excalibur and pointed it threateningly towards Lestrange's throat.

"Try anything," the king warned in a chilling tone, "and I'll strike you down where you stand."

Attempting to be brave, Lestrange scoffed. "That toy of yours holds no candle to wizardry, muggle king."

Arthur's eyes flashed dangerously and he drew the point so it was literally resting against Rodolphus's neck. "This _toy_ ," he spat, "is Excalibur and it is not to be trivially cast aside, _sorcerer_. Forged in a dragon's breath, it possesses magical powers that your finite mind cannot even begin to comprehend. Do not test me, Lestrange. This blade will be the last thing you see if you do."

"King Arthur, if you do not remove your sword I will have you forcibly removed from this court room," Kingsley warned.

To everyone's surprise, it was Merlin who answered.

"Kingsley, do not threaten my King again."

The words were not spoken harshly but they carried a quiet power that made the entire Wizengamot draw back in fear. His eyes significantly wider than before, the Minister nodded to the warlock who then turned to his brother.

"Arthur, put the sword down before you create another mess I have to clean up."

Arthur scowled at Merlin before glaring at Lestrange. The Death Eater's expression was still sardonic but his eyes betrayed him. He was intimidated. Satisfied that he had successfully rattled the man, Arthur conceded to Merlin's request and lowered his sword. He kept it in hand, however, silently stating that he was still prepared to use it if he felt it was required. Kingsley cast him a silent look of disapproval but Arthur didn't care.

Clearing his throat, the Minister addressed the warlock. "Merlin, if you would, please inform the court of the accused's dealings against you."

And so it began. Merlin didn't go into deep details. He stated the facts, how he left to take care of the accident that occurred on Christmas day and ended up in the clutches of Voldemort's remaining followers. He explained the rune cuffs and his ignorance to their side effect at the time he'd used them on Lestrange when _he_ kidnapped _him_ in order to gain information shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Excuse me," a witch with rather curly hair and a prominent nose bravely interrupted, "but how could you choose to use the rune cuffs if you were ignorant of their side effects?"

Merlin smiled kindly at her and explained, "I modeled them after a pair that Arthur had in the vaults of Camelot – the original pair had been made during the Purge under King Uther's reign. The cuffs were only used against evil sorcerers and were not removed until after the accused was dead. When we began working towards establishing Albion, there were many dark sorcerers wandering the land so we decided to again use the cuffs Uther had to restrain them. Later, after our trip here to the future, several sorcerers were arrested under suspicion but later freed by co-conspirators against the crown. It was then that we discovered the rune cuffs had the side effect of causing a person's magic to surge after keeping it at bay for an extended period of time."

"P-Pardon me, M-Merlin," a wizard stuttered nervously.

Merlin tried to send him a reassuring smile. "Yes?"

"I'm confused," the wizard muttered. "What do you mean by your 'trip to the future'?"

"Ahhh… well, let's just say my life is a little… _complicated_ ," Merlin answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's an understatement," Arthur snickered. "I suggest you give them the Reader's Digest Version, Merlin. If not, we'll be here into the next century."

Merlin nodded before proceeding to give a quick synopsis of his very long life. There was a combination of disbelief, skepticism, and astonishment from everyone who hadn't known these details before. Even Lestrange appeared surprised; he clearly hadn't anticipated that the man he'd kidnapped was not the same warlock he'd seen fighting during the Hogwarts Battle but an older much wiser version of the man.

"Anyway," Merlin prattled on after finishing the explanation of his rather bizarre life, "to finish the original request concerning my capture: Rodolphus Lestrange's magic was suppressed for an extended period of time by my younger rather ignorant self so when the Aurors removed the cuffs it exploded and provided him with the means to escape. He took the rune cuffs with him and formulated a plan to use them to kidnap me which he succeeded in doing Christmas day."

Merlin then labeled the types of torture Rodolphus had inflicted upon him without going into the traumatic details that had left him severely emotionally scarred. Neither did he explain Archimedes involvement of removing his immortality since it didn't have anything to do with his short but unimaginably cruel imprisonment. He did speak of Morgana, vouching for her bravery alongside Professor McGonagall, adamantly stating that if it weren't for their key roles, he wouldn't be standing before the court as a free man. He concluded the tale with the rescue, thanking the Ministry for their involvement in Arthur's plans to free him.

To say that the court was speechless was an understatement. Many were appalled and disgusted – not to mention floored – by the extent of torture Merlin had endured in so short a time under the hands of the accused. Several witches were silently crying while a few wizards expressed their abhorrence of the evil practices with enraged glares directed at Lestrange himself.

Merlin, never completely comfortable being the center of attention, unconsciously shifted closer to Arthur. The king tightened his grip on his sword and tried to catch Kingsley's eye, hoping to silently convey the need for the warlock to sit down. He could feel Merlin quivering slightly beside him; the poor man was barely holding it together. After another uncomfortable minute Kingsley dismissed them and asked Morgana to come forward.

It took every ounce of strength Merlin possessed to return to the stands in a confident stride instead of a terrified bolt. Arthur glanced at him worriedly the moment the two had sat down, grateful that they were no longer the center of the court's attention due to Morgana's presence.

Arthur nudged Merlin's mind. _"Are you alright? We can leave if you need to."_

Merlin shook his head _. "I can't leave in the middle of the trial. I'll just have to wait until it's over."_

" _You don't need to stay,"_ Arthur argued. _"You've given your testimony. No one would keep you here if you decided to leave."_

" _I'm not going to give Lestrange the satisfaction of seeing me fleeing from the room, Arthur!"_ Merlin snapped.

The king sighed. He knew all about not wanting your enemies to see your weaknesses. He decided to leave Merlin alone. But if the warlock's anxiety grew worse than it already was then he would resort to forcing him to leave, no matter what the consequence. Turning back to the trial, Arthur felt pride swell in his breast for Morgana. Despite the distrustful glares of several members of the court, she faced them without batting an eyelid.

"Traitor," Lestrange snarled behind her, spitting at her back.

Morgana took a deep breath to steady her inner emotions but didn't turn around, her green eyes focusing entirely on the Wizengamot.

"You are Morgana Pendragon?" Kingsley asked.

"I am," she stated.

Several people murmured at this but Kingsley continued. "Will you kindly tell us your account of the events regarding Merlin Emrys' kidnapping?"

Morgana kept things simple. Without going into detail she stated that once the memories of her past had been restored she had no more desire to do evil, agreeing to pretend to be in league with the Death Eaters in order to move Merlin to a safer location to perform a rescue. Arthur noted the slight quiver in her voice when she spoke of Professor McGonagall's sacrifice but, to her credit, Morgana did not cry. The majority of the Wizengamot still eyed her with distrust after she finished her account.

"Filth," Lestrange spat behind her. "You are a disgrace to our kind, Morgana Pendragon! Siding with muggle-loving fools, it is no wonder your magic was taken from you! You are not worthy of it!"

Morgana rounded on the man, her eyes flaring with the inner fire Arthur had seen whenever she stood up to Uther. It was an intimidating sight and though he didn't shy back physically, Lestrange's confidence slightly faltered. Drawing herself up to her full height, the former High Priestess spit her own venom.

"Do not pretend to know me, Rodolphus Lestrange. I have delved into the blackest of magicks, stood beside the greatest witches of the earth, and commanded an infinite force your pathetic mind could never begin to comprehend let alone harness. I have seen prophecies fulfilled, waged and won wars, and conquered multiple kingdoms. I have accomplished more than the Dark Lord ever did and I am not proud of it. The path I chose to follow led only to darkness, hate, and bitterness. I lost every relationship I ever cherished, my company diminishing to that of mercenaries, scoundrels, and thieves: men who cared only for their own lucre. Though I am sure my words will mean nothing to you since you have labeled me as a traitor, I will give you fair warning: the path you are on will lead to nothing but dissatisfaction, self-loathing, and death.

"It may come as a shock to you but I care not that I have lost my magic in my rebirth. In actuality, I'm grateful. Possessing magic led me down a path I never desire to walk again." She glanced at her fellow witnesses. Her gaze softened as it landed on Gwaine before she turned her back on Lestrange and addressed the Wizengamot. "You all may feel that losing your magic is comparable to losing your soul but to me, it was finding mine. The life I have now is what I always yearned for and I truly am sorry for my previous actions in my previous life. I have to live with the atrocities I committed in my past and I will confirm to this gathered body that in my former life I did aid Lord Voldemort and his followers in the attack of Hogwarts. I killed many people then but I beseech you to see not who I once was but who I have now chosen to be."

She stood tall, the daughter of a king, a woman of true nobility. Arthur couldn't be more proud of her. She had come so far and her penitence was genuine. He did not take well to betrayals but what he had seen the last few days from Morgana was enough to know that she truly had no desire to return to her former lifestyle. The king was rather nervous for her, however. She had just admitted to the entire wizarding court that she had committed murders in a battle that was very much fresh in all of their minds –though it was a long distant memory to the gathered Camelotians. Would they sentence her to life in Azkaban for such a trial? Arthur dared them to try it – and as he looked at his fellow friends, their eyes were shining with the same dare.

A man with a tweedy build and an overly large nose cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Miss Pendragon, you were gathered as a witness but your confessions are something that this court should take into account. We do not take lightly the acknowledgement of murder."

Several people nodded in agreement and Arthur saw Gwaine tense and send them a death glare. Percival placed a hand on his forearm in warning and shook his head. Gwaine scowled. Morgana stood tall, her form betraying nothing of her inner feelings.

"If anyone should end up in Azkaban, it should be her!" Lestrange shouted from his chair before anyone else could speak. "She is the most celebrated evil witch in history! Why is she not in chains? Is it justice that I should be and she not when she has performed atrocities worse than any crime I have ever committed?"

Before anyone could say another word, Merlin stood and Arthur instinctively drew back from the sheer power suddenly radiating from his best friend. The entire room filled with chilling awe as the warlock thundered in a voice that shook the very foundations beneath their feet.

"Say another foul word against her and you will _never_ speak again," he promised.

Arthur's heart stuttered in fear from the sound of Merlin's voice. He'd only seen Merlin this way once, in his life as a Court Sorcerer, and it was after some foul wizard had cursed Arthur in the tongue of the Old Religion using black magic. The king had never dared to ask what it was the sorcerer had done once Merlin had removed said curse but he guessed it had been very bad judging by the fact that Merlin had nearly turned the man to nothing but a charcoaled mess against his throne room wall.

Currently the warlock's eyes were the same as they had been then: a chaotic storm, the blue infused with flecks of magic gold. The air almost seem to crackle with electricity as the most powerful warlock of all time launched himself over the benches and landed with an ethereal grace befitting that of a creature of the Old Religion – and he looked it too. Merlin's countenance glowed with a pearly light as he strode forward with the noble air of royalty and Arthur could only stare in awe. This was the true form of Emrys, Magic among men.

Without looking at Rodolphus he addressed the witches and wizards in the benches above. "I want it understood," he said in a voice that dared any to oppose him, "that Morgana Pendragon has received a full pardon from the Old Religion and therefore this lesser court of power has no grounds to accuse her of previous deeds of misconduct. She paid with her crimes with her life in the past and now, with her rebirth, she is what the Wizarding World would call a muggle. She has committed no crimes in this life that any member of this body could charge against her – and any who dare attempt to punish her for the crimes of her former life will experience the full wrath of the Old Religion, a magick that makes that which you possess seem like mere parlor tricks. If there are any who have suffered previously by her past life they may be comforted in the fact that Emrys brought the evil witch to justice and she will be troubling them no more. The current woman you see before you is my friend and sister in all but blood. You threaten her, you threaten me. You threaten me, you threaten the Old Religion, the Mother Magick to what you currently use in your society."

And without a backward glance, he nodded towards a rather stunned Morgana before gliding back to his seat, the power emanating from him slowly receding with each step he took. By the time he sat down next to Arthur and Freya he was the normal Merlin they had known for years.

An awed silence rang through the chamber and Arthur smugly noted that every witch and wizard in the room was content to agree with Emrys and clear the current Morgana of all previous charges against her. Even Rodolphus was cowed into accepting the unspoken verdict. The king looked at his warlock and sent him an approving nod. Merlin returned it equally in kind, his former nerves and fear dissipated due to his current mood.

After what felt like an eternity, Kingsley found his voice. "Thank you for your witness, Morgana Pendragon. This council, I am sure, holds nothing against you and wishes you well in your future endeavors."

Morgana surprised him by curtseying in her elegant green gown. "Thank you, Minister." And without looking once at Lestrange, she walked gracefully back to her chair and sat next to Gwaine. It was only when she was no longer in the spotlight that Arthur saw her hands begin to shake. Gwaine discreetly placed his own over them and sent her a warm smile, his dark eyes alight with reassurance and pride. Morgana sent him a grateful smile before turning to Merlin, her expression conveying her heartfelt thanks. Merlin returned it with a solemn nod.

Harry was then called to bear witness, seeing as he was one of the original three that had rescued Merlin from his holding cell. Arthur noticed how the court regarded Harry with respect, some even with a slightly disturbing adoration – like one would view a deity. It wasn't the same level of adulation shown to Merlin but it was just as clear that this young man had earned their loyalty and gratitude from ridding the world of the most evil wizard of the age.

Harry didn't speak with eloquence but he was clear and confident in his replies to their questions. He carried himself well, a natural leader, and Arthur could already see the potential he possessed of becoming such one day to the Auror force. After Harry, Arthur was asked to give his account of the tragic sufferings of his brother.

Facing the court, Arthur stood tall, every inch the king he had been born to be. Though his influence was not physical as Merlin's had been, it was felt by all in the room and it was received both with interest and slight fear. There was an unspoken understanding that Arthur was to be treated with the same caliber and respect as the other side of his coin even if he did not possess magic himself; he was the Once and Future King after all, a man of legend and prophecy.

"King Arthur," Kingsley acknowledged, "would you please tell this court what happened when you rescued Merlin Emrys?"

"My account will be the same as the others but since it adds further testament against this wretched filth behind me I will gladly give it," Arthur stated before doing just that. After explaining the rescue, he went on to add in light detail, "The effects of the trauma my Court Sorcerer has experienced have left deep wounds that no man should ever have to endure. I am thankful that Merlin possesses the strongest soul of any man I have ever met and I have all confidence that he will rise from the challenges that currently beset him inflicted by the hands of the accused. That being said, a punishment worthy of the crime inflicted on a member of my court must be made. I know my authority as king is not law in this gathering but I will give a suggestion of a suitable punishment that I ask each of you to consider."

Several members of the Wizengamot leaned forward in interest while Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Say on," he invited.

Before Arthur could even open his mouth, however, Rodolphus exploded behind him. "You are correct in your words, muggle king!" he snapped. "You have no power here and therefore your opinion is invalid and unnecessary! Your words and presence are dispensable pieces of excrement! How dare you stand there, pretending to be a ruler over us, your superiors? You do not even deserve to breathe the same air we do, let alone share the same –"

But whatever else Rodolphus was going to say was cut short as a wave of golden magic slammed into his body, freezing his tongue and his limbs in place. His mouth hung a little open and his eyes widened but he no longer had control over his body. Arthur knew immediately that this was Merlin's work and decided to give the warlock credit where it was due.

"Thank you, Merlin," he said, trying to keep the grin from spreading from his face. Turning back to the rather shocked but appreciative Wizengamot, the king continued, "As I was saying, the punishment I feel suitable for this villain is one Merlin informed me of a short time ago: the Dementor's Kiss."

There was silence as this was received, followed by a dull muttering as each member of the court addressed their neighbor. Some appeared appalled by such a suggestion but most seemed to accept it as appropriate. Kingsley quieted the group by clearing his throat.

"The Dementor's Kiss is a punishment we do not take lightly," he said. "However, in the case of Rodolphus Lestrange, it is an option this court has previously discussed before this trial."

"If I may ask, what other options are being considered?" asked Arthur.

"Life in Azkaban or Obliviation of all previous memories," Kingsley answered.

Arthur nodded. "May I add other punishments to consider besides what I have already suggested?"

Kingsley nodded his approval, his eyes scrunched up in confusion and curiosity. Several others shared similar expressions in the gathered crowd.

"Merlin has to capability of taking away someone's magic," Arthur revealed and this caused a horrified gasp to escape every witch and wizard in the room – minus Rodolphus who could only stare at the back of Arthur's head in terror.

"I-Is this t-true?" a frightened witch squeaked from the second bench of gathered officials.

Arthur could feel Merlin's glare before the warlock begrudgingly admitted, "My King speaks the truth. As Magic itself I am capable of performing such a feat but it is one I have done only once and it was with the permission of the Old Religion that I even did it at all."

"May we ask who merited such a punishment?" asked a man that looked like one strong gust of wind would knock the life out of him.

Merlin shook his head. "I do not feel it important to divulge that information. I feel that the last punishment suggested by my King be stricken from the list of options seeing as the Old Religion has not given me any indication that Rodolphus Lestrange deserves such a fate."

Arthur met Merlin's angry glare with a shrug and internally said, _"I thought I'd make it known that you were not one to be underestimated."_

 _"I'm bloody_ Merlin _, Arthur! I think that was already established before you had to petrify them with such information!"_ Merlin retorted angrily. _"I'm already alienated enough from my own kind. Could you not make it worse?"_

Arthur immediately regretted what he'd done. _"Sorry,"_ he softly muttered in his mind. _"That wasn't my intention."_

Merlin's anger abated somewhat as he sighed, _"I know it wasn't but you can sometimes be the biggest idiot in the world."_

 _"Hey,"_ Arthur complained _, "that's your job, not mine."_

 _"Then stop trying to steal it from me, you prat."_ And the king was grateful to hear the playful edge returning to the warlock's tone. _"By the way, I think you've said enough. You might want to sit down now, seeing as everyone is staring at you."_

Arthur finally noticed that Merlin was right; the witches and wizards were looking at him curiously. Glaring at his Court Sorcerer, the king addressed the court with what he hoped was reclaimed dignity. "I stand by my Advisor's suggestion but urge this body to consider my original proposal."

And without waiting for Kingsley to dismiss him – Kings dismissed themselves! – Arthur rejoined Guinevere who was smiling. She usually held this expression when she was proud and supporting of his decisions. Arthur took her hand and kissed it before facing forward with his head held high.

Kingsley did not seem too pleased by this disruptive behavior in his courtroom; he obviously hadn't experienced other people being in a higher authority than him in such a setting. After a moment the dark wizard let out a soft sigh, straightened his shoulders, and fixed Rodolphus with a disgusted frown.

"After hearing the testimonies of this incident, we will now proceed to list further known charges held against you."

The list wasn't long but it was atrocious. Arthur found himself inwardly cringing. It fathomed him that men could stoop to such appalling behavior. How did they sleep at night? By the time he'd finished laying Rodolphus's crimes before the council, Kingsley displayed the same disgust that Arthur felt. Setting the parchment aside that he had been reading, the Minister threaded his fingers and glared down at the chained Death Eater.

Without removing his gaze, he said, "Merlin, would you please release the accused from your spell?"

"If I must," Merlin answered before another wave of pure magic did just as suggested.

"Is there any other crimes you wish to confess to before we pass judgment, Lestrange?" Kingsley asked.

The Death Eater raised his head and with a voice of sickening passion stated, "I do not need to say more for I do not regret anything I have done."

The Minister's disgust grew along with the rest of the gathered court. "Very well then," Kingsley said, sitting straight. "All in favor of the accused receiving the punishment of Obliviation, please raise your hand."

None did.

"All desiring the accused of a life sentence in Azkaban?"

Not one soul moved at the suggestion. Arthur looked on in silent approval, knowing that the next suggested punishment would be unanimously decided.

"All of the conclusion that the accused has earned the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss?"

The entire room – the witnesses included – raised their hands. The Death Eater displayed no fear nor did he say a thing. He simply sat there.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, for all of the crimes you have chosen to commit we hereby find you guilty and sentence you to the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss," Kingsley said with finality. "Aurors, take him away."

In utter silence, Lestrange stood as the chains from the chair fell away, leaving him in nothing but the original chains in which he was brought. With his head held high and his eyes holding no emotion, he was escorted out, his essence giving no indication that he regretted his actions or that he feared what may come. Arthur shook his head and glanced at Merlin. The warlock's inner sorrow was great but so was his relief at being free of his torturer's presence. From his poor physical state Arthur decided that he wouldn't be the only one taking advantage of the Prefect's bathroom tonight.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi everyone! I'm back from my vacation and it was very wonderful, to be honest. I thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

 **PS: someone asked if the last chapter was the end. Well, this chapter answers that. But for any who are interested to know, I foresee SEVERAL more chapters to come in the future. Happy news for you, yes? :3**

 **Right, on with the story!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

26: One Step Back, Two Steps Forward

Merlin was visibly shaking the second the doors to the court room closed. It had taken everything he had not to magick himself away from that horrible man's presence. Even now he was fighting the urge to run.

"Merlin," Freya whispered quietly in his ear, "are you alright?"

Merlin swallowed and shook his head. No, he most definitely was _not_ alright. Normally he would have brushed off her concern with his usual 'I'm fine' response but she would have seen right through the lie. His stomach roiled and for a brief moment he felt like he was back in that cell, chained to the ceiling covered in his own blood.

Though he might never know the depth of his gratitude, Merlin was beyond thankful that Arthur had come with him when it was his turn to testify. The close proximity to Lestrange had made his skin crawl and caused his heart to accelerate with fear.

 _Him_ , the Great Merlin, afraid of a wizard whose magic was _nothing_ compared to his own! How it _frustrated_ him!

Never before had he been so terrified of someone. Well, perhaps that wasn't true; but he couldn't think of anyone at present that made him feel the way Lestrange did. Not even Morgana had made him feel so helpless – he'd always known he had the power to defeat her. But with Rodolphus, he didn't have that power. It had been taken from him. It had been maddening and terrifying, knowing that he literally could do nothing as Lestrange tortured him relentlessly with curse after curse. Only Harry knew what it felt like to be hit with the Avada Kedavra and survive but Harry hadn't experienced the pain of having your body restart itself _repeatedly_ , aging each time that it did so. By the time he'd reached the age of Dragoon, Merlin had silently wanted to die. And truthfully, after his rescue, the only thing that kept him from fully succumbing to the suicidal thoughts was the duty of protecting his King and being there for Freya.

Could he really be blamed for that though? He'd lived for so long, seen terrors that would reduce even the bravest of men to empty shells, and had his heart broken so many times that he wondered how he was even capable of still experiencing happiness. Now he could finally die and after everything he'd recently been through, oh, how sweet death sounded! To finally have an end, to experience what Gaius had described… it sounded like such a paradise compared to all the death and destruction he'd faced for hundreds of years.

But… would paradise really be paradise?

Arthur was no longer dead. He had returned and was sitting right beside him, breathing strong and healthy. Freya, the love of his life, was finally free to be by his side instead of a ghost of memory and a spirit of longing. Gwen and the Knights were back, the friends he'd wished for the most for many painful nights. Even Gaius had been reborn! How many times had he been in need of fatherly advice only to receive none? Not to mention Aithusa and Altiore were in need of him. He couldn't abandon them now.

No. Paradise would not be paradise. Not without them.

And that was why the warlock continued to fight on.

All these thoughts cascaded through him with clarity in a matter of seconds. He was still sitting in the courtroom with a bunch of witches and wizards who all possessed wands – the revelation causing him to inwardly shy away from them in fear – but he had his friends by his side. And, though it would take time to be surrounded by these lesser sorcerers, he knew deep down that not all of them had the intention of harming him. He'd been exposed to many who were kind. He needed to get over his fear. He didn't want the others to know he'd developed a certain anxiety towards sticks of wood but it wouldn't do to hide things; past experience had definitely taught him that much. He wouldn't tell everyone, of course – the whole Wizarding World did not need to know – just a few people would do; people that he trusted.

"Merlin?"

The great warlock jumped slightly. His eyes whirled around and locked onto a pair of very concerned blue eyes belonging to his king.

"Arthur?"

Did he actually just whimper the man's name? He wasn't supposed to sound scared! He was Merlin! Not some insignificant, petty hedge wizard!

But he _was_ scared. And, though he would _never_ admit it to _anyone_ , the look Arthur was sending him right at that moment made him feel safe. And safe was what he needed most right now.

Arthur would protect him; he had all faith in that.

[][][]

The moment Lestrange had left the room Arthur could tell that Merlin was barely keeping it together. The warlock was visibly shaking and the king was afraid that the progress that had been made towards him returning to normal had been severely crippled from this experience.

Filled with worry, Arthur reached over and lightly touched Merlin's forearm. "Merlin?"

Merlin practically leapt out of his skin, his blue eyes as wide as a frightened deer. "Arthur?" he whimpered.

From that sound, something snapped inside the king. Though he rarely voiced it, Arthur looked to Merlin as the brother he had always wanted and, though Merlin hardly said it, the king knew that the warlock looked to him in a similar light. And right now Merlin needed him. A steely determination and protectiveness overcame him and with one reassuring squeeze to his arm, Arthur conveyed a meaningful look to the warlock that he would take care of things. Merlin nodded in understanding and though the terror in his eyes seemed to lessen, he was still in need.

Arthur, immediately noticing the rather excited witches and wizards of the Wizengamot ready to rush towards them, leapt to his feet and addressed the court. "I know that all of you are eager to ask questions but I implore you to exercise a little more patience and save them for another time."

"Hang on! How do we even know you are who you say you are?" one demanded anyway; skeptical and distrustful if his narrowed eyes and prominent frown were anything to go by.

Arthur tried really hard not to scowl. In their defense, the claim of being legendary figures would seem rather suspicious. Admittedly, if Arthur didn't know it himself, he too would have reacted similarly.

Trying to pacify the gathering crowd, the king squared his shoulders and spoke with all the authority and diplomacy he could muster. "The answers that all of you are seeking _will_ come to light but I am afraid you will have to wait until after the holidays are over. There are many factors concerning our return that you have yet to understand and, though Merlin has given you a brief synopsis of his life, you do not know everything. We wish to remedy this but I would ask that you wait until we are ready to do so. All of us have gone through a terrible ordeal and we are in need of a little privacy. I give my solemn word as king that we will hold a press conference after a week into the new year. Any questions you have will be answered at that time. Until then, I suggest that all of you return to your homes and enjoy the rest of your holiday, seeing as New Years Eve is tomorrow."

Many looked on the verge of protesting but Kingsley stepped forward and put an end to them. "We appreciate you coming to testify, King Arthur, and will do as you request. I'll make the arrangements for the press conference at the appointed time. Until then, enjoy your holiday."

He then bowed respectively to both Arthur and Merlin before turning to the rest of the Wizengamot, practically throwing them out of the courtroom with a rather stern glare. Several witches kept glancing back at Merlin with unrequited longing but most were either curious or angry as they were herded from the room by the Minister. The door to the courtroom shut, leaving the Camelotians, the Golden Trio, and Tonks behind.

"Well, that was intense," Ron commented, leaning back and stretching in his chair. "I bet they're going to be having a field day up there. It's going to be a nightmare getting out of this place!"

"Not necessarily, Ron," said Merlin as he unsteadily got to his feet.

"You alright there, mate?" asked Gwaine, his eyes mimicking the same concern as the others.

Merlin swallowed painfully. "I'll be fine… eventually… for now I just want to go home."

"Are you capable of doing what you did before?" asked Hermione nervously.

"I should be," Merlin muttered after he tried and failed to send a reassuring smile to Freya.

"Don't strain yourself if you can't," Guinevere gently ordered.

"I think I can handle it, Gwen. Everyone just needs to gather down there," he pointed to the main floor of the courtroom, his hand shaking a little as his gaze landed on the chair designated for the accused.

It took a couple minutes but everyone soon gathered in a large circle; Arthur made sure it was formed as far away from the chained chair as possible. Merlin strode into the center of the group and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A moment later his eyelids opened, exposing a pair of bright yellow irises. Just like before, the air began to ripple and shimmer, distorting the shape of the courtroom into brownish-gray blurs. The magic in the air soothed the king and an unconscious smile grew as the colors around him changed to the familiar gray stone of Camelot. The scene around them solidified and Arthur found himself standing in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The ceiling up above displayed a blue sky with sunshine – a rarity during the winter – while the actual sunlight streamed through the slightly frosted windows.

"I'm starving!" Gwaine immediately proclaimed the second the magic had ended. "What's for lunch?"

"It's still a little early for it but if you don't want to wait for the few students and staff all you have to do is sit at one of the tables and tell the floor what you want," Merlin instructed with a small smile. "I'm sure the house elves will be more than happy to take your order."

Gwaine blinked. "You're serious?"

Merlin nodded with a light chuckle.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Ron complained.

"That's because you never bothered to read Hogwarts, A History, Ron," Hermione said while rolling her eyes.

"I'm going to try it!" he replied, running over to the Gryffindor table and sitting down.

He looked rather comical, speaking excitedly to the floor and ordering a mound of food that even Arthur wouldn't have been able to eat. The king watched in amusement as a moment later all the food that Ron had ordered appeared on the table before him.

"Excellent!" the redhead proclaimed, immediately digging into his shepherd's pie.

Having seen his success, Gwaine was more than happy to be the first to order his own food – including a large tankard of firewhiskey, of course. The other knights, being a little more cautious and a little embarrassed, spoke what they wanted and soon the table was full of platefuls of everyone's favorite dishes.

Guinevere, Morgana, Freya, Tonks, and Hermione had claimed a section of the table and were all gossiping about girl stuff – or whatever the heck it is that women talk about. Arthur, Harry, and Merlin were the only ones not already sitting at the table partaking of some form of meal.

Arthur glanced at Harry curiously and the young wizard shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry," he admitted.

One look at Merlin and Arthur knew he wasn't either. "It seems we're all facing a similar quandary," he muttered. After a split second decision, he suggested, "How about we go take a look at that bathroom then? I sure could use a bath after this morning's events."

"That sounds like a great idea," Merlin said, grateful that Arthur had provided an escape window in order to leave the Hall.

"You're going to take a bath?" Harry asked with a raise brow.

Arthur grinned. "I heard there's a rather impressive bathroom in this school only for Perfects–"

"–Prefects, Arthur," Merlin interrupted.

"Whatever. Anyway, would you like to come, Harry?"

"Er- sure?"

"Great, give me a moment and we'll go."

Without waiting for a response, Arthur walked over to Guinevere and whispered in her ear what they were doing. She nodded in understanding before giving him a kiss and sending him on his way. The three of them then left the Hall and allowed Harry to lead the way up to the fifth floor. Stopping at a door next to a statue of a bewildered wizard wearing his gloves on the wrong hands, Harry frowned.

"What's the matter?" asked Arthur while trying to avoid staring at the bizarre statue.

"You need a password to enter," Harry explained, "and I no longer know it."

Merlin smiled. "That won't be a problem."

Stepping forward, the warlock placed his hand on the door and whispered a word of the Old Religion. The door clicked and Merlin pushed it open with a cheeky grin. Arthur rolled his eyes before striding inside, his curiosity growing to see if this bathroom really was all that Merlin cracked it up to be.

A splendid candle chandelier lit up the white marbled room. A tub the size of a swimming pool – built into the floor – was lined with what could have easily been a hundred golden taps, each labeled with a different colored jeweled handle. There was even a diving board! Arthur's eyebrows rose further as he noted the large stack of fluffy white towels in the corner and a single golden framed portrait on the wall of a mermaid sleeping on a rock.

"So, does it live up to your expectations, Sire?" Merlin teased as he wandered past the king and began turning on several taps at once. Hot water poured from many of them along with a stream of pink liquid that added bubbles to the water.

Though he was impressed, Arthur couldn't help but complain. "Merlin, this tub will take hours to fill!"

"I thought the same thing the first time I used it but it actually fills remarkably fast," Harry said, popping a football sized bubble that had somehow separated itself from the others in the tub in an attempt to float towards the ceiling.

"I guess it must be magic or something," Merlin deadpanned, earning a smack upside the head from the king.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur muttered while grinning.

The warlock chuckled while walking over to the door and bolting it shut. Coming back, he proceeded to help Arthur out of his armor, removing the buckles, metal pieces, and Excalibur before working on the chainmail. He used his magic to move the objects to an empty corner and Arthur wasted no time teasing him over being lazy for doing so as he finished removing his undershirt, boots, socks, and trousers on his own, tossing them onto the floor. The king then slipped into the warm water while Merlin, more out of habit than anything else, picked up the king's discarded clothes and placed them with his armor.

Harry discreetly removed his own clothing and glasses before climbing into the soapy water, his green eyes filled with puzzlement as he watched Merlin move around the room gathering different bottles of soap, a stack of towels, and three warm bathrobes; he did, however, give the warlock privacy by turning away when Merlin proceeded to shed his clothes before hopping into the tub.

Arthur had to admit that this was the best bath he'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Though there were two other men sharing the same water as he, there was enough space to feel like he wasn't being disturbed at all. Finding a spot to rest against, he leaned back and nestled his head on the edge, allowing himself to relax.

"Coming here was one of the best ideas you've ever had, Merlin," he happily muttered.

"Why, Arthur, I'm touched," the warlock said in a teasing voice, "that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

"Well, don't let it go to your head. You're still an idiot."

"Nice to see that after all these years you're still a prat."

"I don't think I'm ever going to figure the two of you out," said Harry, interrupting the battle of wits Arthur was about to continue to wage.

"What do you mean?" asked Merlin.

Harry shrugged, pushing his rather untidy hair away from his forehead. "You're both just so different from what I imagined, that's all. What Guinevere said about you two seems true."

"What did she say?" asked Arthur.

"That you're literally two halves of a whole."

"She would be correct on that," Merlin answered with a kind smile and a nod.

"But how is that possible?" Harry wondered. "You're both your own person."

Arthur and Merlin shared a look before shrugging.

"It's kind of hard for me to explain myself," admitted Arthur while Merlin nodded in agreement. "All I know is that before this idiot came into my life I was a spoiled, selfish prat who cared little for others and wanted nothing more than to receive his father's approval."

"And I was the village outcast, unaccepted because I didn't have a father and labeled strange since my mother wouldn't allow me to play with the other children – due to my random magical outbursts."

"Why would your village hate you for not having a father?" Harry asked, confused. People didn't hate him for being an orphan.

Merlin had a sad smile on his face as he explained, "My parents, to my knowledge, were never married and having a child out of wedlock was heavily frowned upon in our time; on the social class scale, a bastard is even lower than that of a normal peasant. My mother was treated well by the other villagers but me, well, let's just say my childhood wasn't the best. I did have one friend, Will, who went against his parents' wishes and spent time with me. He was a bit of a misfit too so we got on pretty well. But there came a point where he accidentally learned of my magic and that freaked my mother out so much that she sent me to Camelot. She hoped that Gaius would be able to help me learn to control it."

"I still think she was out of her mind to send you to the heart of a magic-hating kingdom," commented Arthur though he was smiling.

Merlin shrugged. "I guess she figured it would scare me enough to realize how important it really was to keep it hidden."

"Did it?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," Merlin bitterly chuckled. "My first day in Camelot I watched someone be executed for practicing sorcery; it was a rather rude wake up call."

"One that made it so you kept your magic secret from everyone," Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"Yes but eventually everyone found out and you didn't end up hating me forever," Merlin answered with a smile. "You see, Harry, Arthur and I are two sides of the same coin because, in a way, we complete each other. The weaknesses of one are filled by the other. We strengthen each other. We somehow know when the other is in danger–"

"That last one, I would say, developed over time though," Arthur amended, "seeing how many times you or I ended up in dangerous situations and the other was completely oblivious."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll give you that. But, the point is, we're connected."

"But you still live separate lives," Harry said.

"Obviously," Arthur smirked.

The young wizard fidgeted a moment. "I know this might sound offensive but… the way you're describing it… it almost sounds like you're, well, a couple."

Arthur groaned before mumbling, "Not _this_ again!"

"I don't think you are!" Harry said in a rush, "What with the two of you each having a girlfriend. I just know that normally a couple is supposed to do that sort of thing. Support each other, that is."

Merlin laughed while Arthur folded his arms and scowled.

"You're not the first to think that about us, Harry," the warlock chuckled.

"It's not funny, _Mer_ lin!" Arthur snapped, splashing water into Merlin's face.

"I'm laughing because it's _ironic_ ," he answered, throwing bubble suds at the king; they fell short, landing on the water's rippling surface. "Anyway, people may think that at first, Harry, but as you continue to get to know us you'll find that what we have is something similar to that of what Fred and George share."

"That's what the queen said too," said Harry, "that you're more like brothers with a connection equal to that of twins."

"That's pretty accurate," Merlin nodded, "though it's not the same thing. It goes much deeper than that."

"Obviously it's pointless to try to explain it," Arthur grumbled, his mood somewhat spoiled, "seeing as we can't even figure it out ourselves. Though one thing needs to be made explicitly clear: I _do_ _not_ nor will I _ever_ _have_ romantic feelings for _Merlin_."

"If it makes you feel better, you're not my type either, Arthur."

"If that were the case, I'd have to fire you and find a new Court Sorcerer and Advisor."

"Like you ever could. I'd give it less than a day before you were pining after my presence."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Does that mean you agree, sire?"

Arthur answered by dunking Merlin's head in the water. The warlock spluttered as he came back to the surface, coughing and rubbing his eyes.

"Prat!" he muttered as Arthur grinned.

"Idiot," he rejoined, ruffling Merlin's sopping wet hair. After a moment's pause, Arthur looked him seriously in the eye and asked, "All things aside; Merlin, are you alright?"

The lightheartedness seemed to fade as Merlin's eyes dropped to the soap bubbles around him. For a moment it looked like he was going to shrug off the king's concern but under Arthur's royal glare, he changed his mind. "Not really," he admitted.

Harry drew closer in concern. "Is there anything we can do?"

Merlin smiled a little. "I'm not really sure, honestly, Harry." He bit his lip before letting out a heavy sigh. "What I'm about to tell you, can you keep it to yourselves for now?"

"Absolutely," Arthur replied immediately.

"Of course," said Harry when Arthur and Merlin stared at him.

Merlin sighed again. "Well… it would seem that I have developed a small… fear," he muttered hesitantly.

"Of what?" Harry prompted.

Arthur had a feeling he knew what it was.

"Wands," Merlin answered.

Arthur nodded. That's exactly what he suspected.

"Wands?" Harry repeated, surprised.

Merlin swallowed, nodding his head. Keeping his eyes fixed on the soap bubbles in front of him, he absently touched them with his fingers. "I think it's mostly because of what happened… on Christmas…" He paused, running a hand through his damp hair as he sighed. "I've had my fair share of kidnappings – Arthur can attest to most of them – but I've never been kidnapped and abused by wandwielders before. No offense, Harry, but… you're magic is _nothing_ compared to mine. It shouldn't have – I should have been –"

But the warlock gave up, his anger, embarrassment, and frustration causing the words to catch in his throat. Arthur knew full well what Merlin was having difficulty voicing and, if Harry's expression was anything to go by, he knew as well.

"Merlin," Arthur began hesitantly.

"Forget it, Arthur."

The king scowled. "No, Merlin," he persisted.

"I said, _forget_ _it!"_ Merlin snapped, his anger expelling raw energy that created a wave large enough to push both Arthur and Harry away from him into the sides of the tub. Arthur's back smacked into the solid marble with an uncomfortable slap, the force causing his head to snap back into two of the golden taps behind him.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried in horror the moment he saw the king's head hit the taps. In two seconds he was by his side. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I didn't mean –"

Ignoring him, Arthur rubbed the back of his head. Something sticky stuck to his hand and when he looked down…

"You're bleeding!" Merlin looked mortified. He immediately reached forward to help.

Arthur held up a hand to stop him. Looking past his Court Sorcerer, he found Harry. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Y-Yeah," Harry muttered, "but I think my back's going to have a bruise in the morning."

Arthur approved of the boy's reaction. He didn't appear to be angry with Merlin at all. Frankly, Arthur wasn't either. He'd been on the receiving end of Merlin's instinctual magic many times; it always occurred when the warlock lost control of his emotions. Normally it took a lot to get Merlin to that point and in this case it seemed that he'd finally reached his limit. Arthur couldn't blame him for losing control, though; his friend had gone through a horrible ordeal and had to face his demons this morning. That would disturb anyone.

Arthur soon realized that Merlin was on the verge of tears. The king quickly took his best friend by the shoulders and gently shook him. "Merlin," he coaxed. The warlock didn't look at him. "Merlin, look at me."

Blue eyes filled with so much sorrow, terror, and regret met his concerned gaze and Arthur's heart broke a little. For a brief moment he thought of how there once was a time such emotion was not present in those crystal blue eyes… a simpler time when he was still a prince and Merlin still a manservant. Merlin had been so full of life then; carefree, happy. Now he stared at a man who had seen too much, who had lived too long in heartache. How he wished he could take those feelings away.

"I promised to never hurt you," Merlin whispered, the tears in his eyes spilling over.

"Merlin, you didn't hurt me. My head smacked into a few of the taps."

"Because of me!"

Arthur's grip on his shoulders tightened. "No, Merlin," he said fiercely. "Stop it. Stop it right now. You are not to blame yourself or so help me I'll throw you in the stocks for a year."

Merlin swallowed painfully, his attempt to smile more of a grimace. "May I heal you?" he asked, desperate to mend that which was broken.

Arthur sighed. "If it'll make you feel better, go ahead."

Merlin placed his hand against the back of Arthur's skull, his fingers gently probing until he found the small cut. Arthur tried not to wince from the touch but he couldn't fool his friend. Merlin scowled in disapproval – more directed at himself than the king – before his eyes flashed gold and the sting of the wound went away.

"Good as new," he mumbled, moving his hand away from Arthur's head before turning to Harry. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Merlin, I'm fine," Harry assured.

The warlock shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Harry shrugged. "You're frustrated. Honestly, I can understand why. You're supposed to be the strongest wizard of all time but you were held captive by wizards and witches who are weaker than you and now you've developed what you think is an irrational fear towards wands, the basic tool that every magical person uses in this day and age. But you shouldn't be too upset with yourself, Merlin. You went through a horrible experience. It's natural to develop fears. I assume you know mine? My Boggart always turns into a Dementor – a creature that represents fear itself – and I've had my fair share of encountering them. I acknowledge that I'm afraid but I don't run away from them. I confront them. I suggest you do the same. Running away isn't going to solve any of your problems, Merlin. You need to face them head on."

King and warlock stared at the young wizard before them, both surprised and impressed. Harry's words were filled with wisdom and instead of beating around the bush, he'd told Merlin exactly what he thought he needed to hear. Arthur found himself smiling.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," he complimented, nodding his head in appreciation to Harry. The young wizard blushed slightly.

"Sorry," he muttered, his green eyes turning away under their scrutiny.

"No," Merlin muttered, "Arthur's right."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What?"

"You're right," Merlin repeated, amused that the king looked immensely pleased from the statement. "Oh, don't look so cheerful, Arthur; there have been many times that I've agreed with you. Anyway, Harry, your counsel is correct. I'm being a stubborn old fool – and I have a right to say that since I'm older than both of you. I know I need to face my fears but…"

"It's not going to be easy," Arthur finished.

Merlin nodded. "I don't really know how to go about it," he confessed, sending a silent plea to both Harry and Arthur on what he should do.

Harry tapped his chin. "Well, with Professor McGonagall's… passing, the position of Headmaster is available."

Merlin stiffened. "No, no, absolutely not! I am not cut out to run a school, Harry."

"Alright, alright, no need to get your wand in a twist," Harry muttered. Arthur looked at him strangely. "Figure of speech," he shrugged.

"Ah," Arthur murmured in understanding.

"Anyway," Harry tried again, "Merlin, being at Hogwarts might be the best thing for you. Where better to get over your fear of wands than a school for magic? You'll be surrounded by students–"

" – who have very little, if any, control over spells," Merlin interrupted while folding his arms. "Yes, being around unstable wandwork is exactly what I need to reassure me that such magical practices are fine to be around!"

"Students don't know dark magic, Merlin," Arthur countered. He somewhat liked Harry's suggestion. It made sense, in a way. Children were innocent and therefore their magic would be too. And Merlin loved using his magic for innocent things.

"That may be true but you're both forgetting something very important," Merlin snapped. "It's not my destiny to run a wizarding school! We're supposed to be creating Albion, Arthur, and I can't help you do that if I'm stuck behind a teacher's desk!"

"Okay, so maybe we'll have to rule out being Headmaster," Arthur said reluctantly agreeing with Merlin's objection.

"What about teaching?" Harry cut in.

"Out of the question," Merlin stated.

"What's your excuse this time?" Arthur asked more out of amusement than disappointment.

Merlin scowled. "I use the magic of the Old Religion, not this New, diluted stuff! I can't teach students how to use something I can't use myself."

"But I thought you said you went to Hogwarts several times as a student," Harry said, confused.

"I guess you forgot that the wand I used that whole time was hollow?" Merlin sighed bitterly. "My wand is nothing but a stick with a hole down the middle of it, Harry. I channel my magic through it and I constantly have to repress its full power with every spell I use. Not to mention the difficulty in saying the spell you modern sorcerers use aloud while saying the Old incantations in my head in order to fit in! No, I can't possible teach anyone magic since mine is completely different to what your lot use."

Harry looked put off but Arthur wasn't about to give up. While he agreed with Merlin, he also saw the value in the core of Harry's idea: exposure. That's what he was going for.

"Alright," he said, gaining both the warlock and wizard's attention, "Merlin won't be a headmaster or a teacher. However, the term is going to start up again soon and then we'll have until summer before the school year ends, correct?"

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, bemused.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning in that prattish brain of yours?"

Arthur grinned. "Harry is right; the only way to get you out of your fear of wands is to be exposed to it. And since you more than likely will have greater difficulties doing that around adults, we're going to stay at Hogwarts and attend classes every day until the end of the school year."

"WHAT?" Merlin cried in horror. "Arthur, I'm not going back to school!"

"I didn't say you were, idiot," the king laughed due to the horrified look on his brother's face. "No, what we'll be doing is more like _auditing_ the classes. We'll be there to observe. You just need to be exposed to wand work since you said so yourself that you're rubbish at it."

"I didn't say I was rubbish at it," Merlin countered, "I just said it was difficult."

"Your wand is a hollow stick, Merlin."

Merlin scowled. "At least I can fool everyone around me. If you used a wand, you'd look like a complete turnip head."

"Why would I ever need to pick up a wand, Merlin, when I've got my very own Court Sorcerer to do magic for me?"

"Hopeless prat."

"Useless idiot."

The two shared a large grin before laughing, Harry joining them. The tension in the air dissipated and Arthur relaxed. He knew that Merlin would agree to the plan even if he initially didn't like it.

After a moment, the warlock sighed, "Alright," he muttered, "we'll attend the classes. I can't very well go around trying to bring Albion back in the state I'm in anyway. But first we need to hire a new Headmaster or Headmistress."

Harry perked up at this. "But isn't that the job of the school governors?"

Though they were dimmer than usual, Merlin's eyes twinkled a little as he answered, "Not now that Arthur is back. The governors may choose anyone they like but until they are approved by Arthur, the candidate won't get the job. Since Arthur didn't voice any objections to the teachers during his last visit to the castle, all of them remained secure in their positions."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant! I can't wait for the governors to learn about this!"

"I take it you don't like them very much?" Arthur guessed with an amused smirk.

"Let's just say they're easily swayed when threatened," Harry muttered, his expression darkening a little.

Arthur shared a curious look with Merlin before shrugging his shoulders. "Alright, I get to pick the new Headmaster or Headmistress; any suggestions?"

"I have one."

Arthur looked at Harry with a raised brow. "Oh?"

"Professor Flitwick," Harry said without hesitation. "He's head of Ravenclaw house and he's a very powerful wizard. He teaches Charms."

Arthur immediately looked to Merlin who was already nodding in approval. "That's an excellent choice," the warlock agreed. "He's a good man, Arthur. Not only was he a model student when he attended Hogwarts but he later became a dueling champion – in magic, of course."

"He was one of the best one of the best teachers I ever had," Harry put in. "He really cares about the students."

Arthur thought it over before looking up at Merlin and Harry. "Do you trust him?"

"I do," Merlin answered without pause.

"Yes," Harry said at the same time.

Arthur nodded. "Alright then."

Harry stared. "That's it? You're not going to interview him or anything?"

Arthur shrugged. "You and Merlin trust him. That's all I need to know."

Harry's jaw dropped. Arthur knew it probably sounded strange, but Harry didn't understand the depth of trust he had in Merlin's judgment. The warlock was never wrong when it came to analyzing people. He was able to see into their hearts and Arthur had learned long ago that when Merlin didn't trust someone, he had good reason. If he felt Professor Flitwick was capable of taking care of the school then that was good enough for Arthur.

Ignoring Harry's surprise, Arthur slightly changed the subject. "While on the topic of the head of the school, has anything concerning Professor McGonagall's funeral been decided?"

"Not that I've heard," Merlin answered.

"I overheard Flitwick and Sprout. They were saying that McGonagall would have wanted the students to attend the service – similar to Dumbledore's funeral," Harry muttered.

"Does she want to be buried at Hogwarts too?" Merlin asked.

"I think so," Harry answered with a nod.

"It would be appropriate," Arthur mused. "Those who died during the Battle rest on the grounds. She can be as well, if that is her wish."

"If she wanted the students there, the funeral will have to take place right after the holidays are over," Merlin surmised. "We also have to hold a press conference around that time too."

"And we have to marry our current girlfriends," Arthur added.

"But I thought you already were –" Harry started.

Arthur cut him off. "Guinevere and I aren't married in this time period since we've been reborn. And this idiot's never been married but now that he's mortal he can finally ask for the hand of the girl he's been pining over for more than fifteen centuries."

"Tomorrow is New Years Eve," Merlin randomly muttered in a daze, his eyes suddenly glazing over.

"Very good, Merlin, you've remembered what day it is," Arthur mocked. "Why is it so important besides the fact that it's a holiday?"

"I'm going to propose to Freya tomorrow," Merlin said in that same stunned voice.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise, the action mirrored by Harry. "You are?"

Merlin nodded, the goofy grin Arthur had barely seen in recent days returning to the warlock's face, spreading all the way up until his eyes began to dance. It was a welcoming change and Arthur found himself grinning just as widely.

"Congrats!" Harry praised, smiling at the warlock.

"About time!" Arthur commented, punching Merlin in the arm.

"Hey, I haven't proposed yet," Merlin said rubbing the smart but grinning all the same.

"So when will the wedding happen?" Arthur asked while smirking.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Why don't you worry about your own wedding, Arthur?"

"Oh, I will," Arthur grinned, "But I've been married before. You, on the other hand, were Camelot's Oldest Resident Bachelor and I'm more than excited to take that title away from you."

"I assume this means you'll be wanting to marry us?" Merlin grinned.

"Who else is going to?" Arthur demanded.

"You're a clergyman?" Harry asked, confused.

Merlin and Arthur laughed.

"I'm a king, Harry," Arthur stated. "I performed several marriage ceremonies in my time but only when requested. Geoffrey of Monmouth usually was the one to do such things."

"Indeed," Merlin grinned, "This is the first time I've ever seen you volunteer to perform a ceremony."

Arthur pretended to be fascinated with the soap suds around him as he shrugged, "It's not that big of a deal."

Merlin's smile softened. "I'd love for you to marry us, Arthur."

The king looked up and grinned. "Fine, you don't have to twist my arm over it."

Merlin laughed.

"It seems there's a lot that's going to happen soon," Harry mused after the three had relaxed into silence for several minutes. "We have a holiday, a funeral, a new headmaster, a couple of marriages, and real life to deal with."

"Kind of overwhelming, isn't it?" Arthur muttered. Merlin stiffened a little beside him and the king glanced at him in concern. "Merlin?"

"Arthur," he began hesitantly, "there's something else you need to know."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

The warlock shifted back and forth, his eyes downcast, and his shoulders slumped. Arthur's eyes narrowed. He'd seen this posture many times and it was always accompanied with bad news.

"Merlin?" he prompted again, his voice a little more stern. "What's wrong?"

"Arthur, it's your father."

* * *

 **Oooooooh! _Cliffhanger!_**

 **I regret nothing.**

 **It was the perfect place to end, after all. Reviews will spur me along! :) (goes to hide from any angry glares for leaving chapter on such a note)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Happy Halloween everyone!** **Here's some virtual word candy for you!** **At least, hopefully you think of it as word candy - it is a new chapter after all - which you have been waiting _very_ patiently for - for days - without staring religiously at your email wondering if a new chapter will be posted in all that time - **

**\- Okay, stop rambling, you dollophead.**

 **I am not _rambling_ , _Mer_ lin! I simply want to know if my adoring fans - **

**\- Just let them read the dang chapter already! You are such a narcissistic clotpole sometimes!**

 **What did you say?!**

 **What the? Merlin! Arthur! How did you get access to this? Harry, you were supposed to be keeping an eye on them. Harry? Why is Harry knocked out?**

 **... it was Merlin's idea!**

 **Was not, you prat! You're the one that wanted to see if the readers were anxious to figure out what happens to you -selfish cabbage head that you are -**

 **I resent that!**

 **BOYS! Give me back my computer! And Merlin, wake Harry up! And Arthur, don't order Merlin to put Harry to sleep again so you can sneak onto my computer and write your own author notes at the beginning of my chapters! Gracious! _Anyway_ , thank you, dear readers, for all of the reviews, I really appreciate them. What was that, Arthur? Yes, they know you appreciate them too. (Rolls eyes) Seriously though, you guys (as in the readers) are great. Happy Halloween! Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter.**

* * *

27: Rim Fire Lane

"Are you sure about this?"

Arthur paused as he finished lacing up his tennis shoes. Was he sure? Letting out a heavy sigh, he straightened and turned to Merlin.

"What would you have me do, Merlin?" he asked. His hair was still damp from their time in the Prefect's Bathroom but that didn't prevent Arthur from running his hands through it. "I can't just stay here when I know that he's dying," he admitted. "My relationship with him is certainly strained but…"

"He's still your father," Merlin finished.

"You understand why I have to go?"

The warlock let out a heavy sigh. "I have no love for the man but I understand, Arthur, I really do. These will be the last moments you have with him and from what you told me, you didn't part on the best of terms last you saw him."

"We didn't part on the best of terms in the past either," Arthur muttered, thinking of his father's ghost. "I need closure, Merlin."

"I know," his friend said with a sad, understanding smile.

Arthur looked up, hating his vulnerability but needing to express it all the same. "Will you come with me?"

Merlin answered without hesitation. "Like I'd ever let you venture off alone. I waited a long time for you, prat. You're not leaving without me."

Arthur's smile was large as he clasped the man on the shoulders. "Thank you, Merlin."

"Any time, old friend. When do we leave?"

[][][]

It was late. Arthur had told the others his plans to return home over dinner and, although most of them were hesitant, each expressed their desire to come with him; even Morgana said she'd go though it seemed more out of a desire to be with those she loved than to stay in a castle now very unfamiliar to her. Arthur hadn't objected. The idea of going home to spend the last holiday of the year with his dying father was not appealing in the slightest but perhaps this event would bring fortune instead of further disaster. At least he'd have his loved ones by his side if this entire exodus went up in flames.

Arthur found himself walking down the halls of Hogwarts Castle, his mind caught up in the past. Some corridors he trod through sparked familiarity but the inner décor was nothing like the Camelot from his memories. For a moment Arthur wished he could go back, back to a time when he'd run through these halls as a boy, filled with nothing but the hope of pleasing a father he'd looked to as a hero. So consumed was he in memory that he didn't realize he'd come to a stop, his body leaning against the wall, his gaze staring out a window where he'd frequently found his father.

"Uther was always fond of this particular spot," said an old voice behind him.

Startled, Arthur came out of his musings. "Gaius! What are you doing here?"

The old physician's smile was still the same, despite the changes in his physical appearance; his hair short, his eyes hidden behind a pair of black spectacles, and his clothing now slacks and a long sleeved dress shirt. Arthur smiled at him. He'd been the family doctor for as long as he could remember.

"I saw you wander past the marble staircase," Gaius answered, coming over to lean against the wall beside the king. "You looked rather troubled."

"I was… remembering," Arthur confessed.

Gaius nodded. "An easy thing to do here; there are many memories within these walls, despite how different they have become."

Arthur lightly snickered. "Yes, who knew the great citadel of Camelot would become a school for magical children. I still have difficulties believing it. So much is different and yet…"

"It is still home," Gaius finished understandingly.

A moment passed between them before Arthur got up the courage to ask the old man what was on his mind. "Why didn't my father tell me?" he muttered. "He knew for months. Why didn't he say anything?"

"He didn't want to worry you," Gaius answered. "Arthur, you were off at school. Uther knows how important an education is in order for you to properly take over the company."

"I'm _not_ going to take over the company, Gaius," Arthur snapped before saying in a softer, more apologetic tone, "Sorry… It's just… I don't _want_ to. I've _never_ wanted to. There's so much more that I should be doing – that I _need_ to be doing. I don't want to live in America and run a business. I want to do what I was reborn to do. Merlin's waited all these years for me. I can't just turn my back on him because my father desires me to continue his legacy. I'm not a prince anymore and he's not a king. If I don't want to follow in his footsteps I'm not obligated to do so."

Gaius let out a heavy sigh. "Even before I remembered the past I always knew you were your own man, Arthur. Am I right in suspecting that even though you told Uther you were studying business in London that you were actually studying something else?"

Arthur lightly blushed. He'd been caught and there was no point denying it. Besides, from the look that Gaius was sending him, he didn't dare lie. What was the point when the old man's eyebrow was capable of making him feel like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar instead of a grown adult?

"I was studying law," he confessed. "I've always wanted to help people and I felt the best way to do that was in a courtroom."

Gaius chuckled. "Well, knowing who you once were, that's not really surprising now."

Arthur had to agree with him.

"So, now that you've regained your memories, what do you plan to do?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "Everything's happened so fast. I mean, two weeks ago I was just a law student trying to survive through the school year. Now I'm the Future King that Merlin's been waiting centuries for. With him getting kidnapped and rediscovering the magical world… my life in this time period has been completely derailed off the tracks. I don't know what to do next, really. I mean, I sort of do. I want to remarry Guinevere and I want to help Merlin with all the problems going on in the Wizarding World but…"

Arthur shook his head. He really didn't know what to do. Was it right to throw all of his studying away and not pursue a law degree now that he knew of the greater calling Destiny had picked out for him centuries ago?

"You're still young, Arthur," Gaius consoled, patting him warmly on the shoulder. "You may have the mind and memories of King Arthur Pendragon but you also have the mind and memories of Arthur James Head, a twenty five year old man trying to find his place in the world."

"You seemed to have it all figured out though," Arthur commented with a bittersweet smile. "Once a doctor always a doctor?"

Gaius chuckled. "I suppose so, sire. I must say, the return of my memories has brought me greater knowledge of the world of healing."

"And which do you prefer? The modern or medieval practices?"

"There are definitely advantages to both, if you'd ever believe it," the physician stated seriously. "Old remedies that I now remember definitely work better than some of the over the counter medicines that have been developed. And, while the application is pretty much the same, the use of modern day equipment and electricity is a miracle I am very grateful for. It's rather fascinating, living and personally knowing all of the advances man has made over the centuries."

Arthur found himself agreeing. "It is remarkable," he admitted, "Although, I wish sword fighting hadn't gone out of style." He let out a forlorn sigh and shook his head, deciding to change the subject. "I don't know if I can do this, Gaius; see my father, I mean."

"He wants to see you, Arthur," Gaius assured. "He doesn't have long left."

"I didn't even notice," Arthur muttered bitterly. "He didn't even look sick."

"Well, you were rather occupied with Merlin's capture to notice anything else," the old man comforted. "Besides, Uther hides his pain very well. No one in the company knows of his condition."

"What?" Arthur asked, completely shocked. "How could they not?"

Gaius shook his head. "They haven't physically seen him for two months. He told them he was going on holiday to visit you for a while. His condition is such that I ordered him to stay at the estate in Diamond Bar though he's been continuing to run the company over phone calls. The only reason I allowed him to come to London to see you was because I knew he didn't have much time left. I still feel guilty leaving him the day our memories returned. I knew of his physical condition yet I could not agree with his demands. I chose you over him and not a day has past that I haven't wondered if I did the right thing in doing so. He has other doctors besides me but I was the one who found the cancer, Arthur. I've been there since the beginning. I can't help but think I've betrayed him."

"Is that why you were the first to volunteer to come with me? You want to reconcile with him?"

Gaius nodded, his eyes filled with guilt. "Though he is a stubborn man, your father is my friend, Arthur. The oldest standing one I have, if we count the past. I don't want his last memory of me believing I abandoned him."

Arthur smiled and took the old man's shoulder. "It won't be. My father is known to hold grudges but I know if he'll forgive anyone, he'll forgive you. You were the one he confided in the most in the past and I'm sure that hasn't changed now. You're a loyal friend, Gaius, to him and to me. I'm grateful."

His voice shook a little but Arthur didn't care. This was Gaius, a man he considered his second father. He had seen him grow from a child to a man in both lifetimes and had been there for him as a confidante and a friend. Gaius wouldn't make fun of a moment of emotion.

And he didn't. He merely smiled at Arthur before inclining his head respectfully. "I wouldn't be anything else to either of you, Arthur. Now, come on, we'd best head down to the Entrance Hall. The others are sure to be ready by now."

Arthur nodded before following him away from the window. He glanced back at it wistfully before turning the corner and wandering down a staircase that would take them to the first floor. Sure enough, the others were waiting for them just as Gaius had suspected. The king's gaze first landed on Merlin, the old warlock's eyes immediately finding his. He sent him a concerned but reassuring nod. Arthur returned it.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a handful of Order Members were also there.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the rest of the holidays here?" asked Harry.

"Seeing my father is more important, I'm afraid," Arthur said reluctantly. "We'll be back in a couple of days, though. We have a press conference and a funeral to attend to before classes resume after all. Not to mention we need to hire a new Headmaster." He quickly glanced towards an oblivious Professor Flitwick before turning back to the others. "Take care of the castle until we return."

"We will," Harry promised, shaking his hand. "Good luck, Arthur."

The king nodded before he turned to Merlin. "Are you sure you can get us to America with that spell of yours, Merlin? I don't want to tire you."

"I should be fine, Arthur," Merlin assured. "I found a few power stones in my room. I'll use their energy to get us to where we need to go."

"Power stones?" Hermione cried excitedly. "Truly?"

Merlin nodded, holding them out for all to see. The harmless-looking rocks were an inch in length and width, their smooth surfaces emitting a soft yellow glow.

"What's so incredible about a few glowing rocks?" Ron asked, unimpressed.

Hermione glared at him. "They're not _rocks_ , Ron, they're _power_ _stones!"_

"And the difference is?"

"Power stones were used anciently by sorcerers," she explained. "They filled them with small doses of their magic and then used them to enhance the power of their own incantations in dire situations like battle."

"Similar to an aquifer?" Dedalus Diggle wondered.

"Exactly," Merlin said with a smile.

"So those stones have a bunch of your magic inside of them?" Harry asked curiously.

Merlin nodded.

"But isn't that dangerous?" asked Charlie Weasley. "Having so much power lying around, anyone can pick it up and use it."

"Which is why they're banned," Tonks said though she winked and smiled, "Don't worry, Merlin, I'm not going to arrest you for using them; I'm sure you're not planning to blow up half of England."

Ron's eyes filled with disbelief. "A power stone can do that?"

"One that possesses my magic could," Merlin replied, "which is why I suggested they be banned in the first place."

"That was _you?"_ Hermione asked, her face filled with awe.

Merlin shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he muttered. "I thought it best that ancient magical resources be done away; Old magic weapons don't work so well with New. A wizard tried to use one once – the idiot blew up his house and the surrounding countryside – after that I suggested to the Wizard Council that they be banned and they didn't hesitate in agreeing with me. I destroyed most of the stones but I confess I saved a few for myself. They are part of my time period after all. Besides, I figured they'd come in handy some day and that holds true due to this little trip. Now, if we're going there tonight I suggest we get going."

"Right," Arthur muttered in agreement.

The Camelotians formed a circle around the warlock while the Order members looked on with interest and curiosity. Merlin pocketed all but two of the power stones in his hands before taking a deep breath. Clasping a stone in each hand, the warlock's eyes burned a brilliant gold and light escaped through the creases of his hands as he used the magic within the stones to move the circled group from one continent to the other in a matter of seconds. The warm gray of the interior of Hogwarts disappeared instantly, replaced with a lighted street and a foggy night. The sudden onslaught of humidity and the sweet scent of rain slammed into Arthur, leaving him quite disoriented as his eyes took in the sight of palm trees and mountains in the distance.

Someone groaned and Gwaine shouted, "Merlin!"

Arthur spun around just in time to see Merlin doubled over, losing the contents of his stomach onto the concrete road. The king rushed to the warlock's side.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Merlin mumbled, shakily wiping his mouth. "I've never traveled over continents before; it was a lot of magic."

"You idiot, you said it wouldn't be a problem!" Arthur took in Merlin's pale, shaking form and turned with panicked eyes toward Gaius. "Is he going to be alright?"

Gaius stepped forward and Arthur pushed Gwaine back to give them some room. Merlin was still resting his hands on his knees, the power stones now on the ground, their inner core dull instead of gold.

"Should have used more than two," Merlin muttered as Gaius clucked over him in disapproval.

"Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me, Merlin," he griped as he checked the man's vitals.

"Sorry," Merlin said with a weak chuckle.

Gaius rolled his eyes. "You'll live but your body took on a lot of physical exertion. I'd suggest healing yourself but since your magic is the cause of this fatigue you might have to consider healing the old fashioned way."

"Great," Merlin grumbled, "we go off to visit Uther and I'm in need of twelve hours of sleep. If he does anything I won't be able to protect any of you."

"Merlin, we're perfectly capable of handling my father," Arthur assured. "Just don't let him know you're weak or else I fear he might try to take advantage of that. He may attempt to put up a front but he's still deathly afraid of sorcery. Don't give him a reason to believe he has an advantage over you."

"Easier said than done when I feel like keeling over, Arthur," Merlin quipped. "Where is your house, anyway? You showed me the coordinates on a map but I'm not sure if I got us on the right street."

Arthur looked around and immediately recognized where they were. Smiling, he pointed up the road. "You actually managed to transport us at the end of my street, Merlin. I'm amazed. For a moment there I was afraid you'd end up taking us to China."

"I'm touched by your confidence in my abilities," Merlin huffed, "Lucky for you, I've been to China and know that it's _nothing_ like California. The signature of the earth is different there than in this country; my magic can tell."

"But isn't China Town in California?" Gwaine asked.

"Please," Merlin scoffed, "don't mistake imitations for the real thing, Gwaine. Now, come on; though its California instead of Europe it's still cold in December and I want to sleep as soon as possible."

Freya exchanged a slightly worried glance with Arthur before collecting the power stones from the street and taking Merlin's hand. The group then started following the king up the road towards his house.

"Are you alright?" Arthur heard her ask the warlock.

With a tenderness that Arthur had never heard in Merlin's voice before, he answered, "I'll be fine, Freya. I just need to sleep it off. The stones didn't have enough power to get us here so I had to use my own magic transport us the rest of the way. If we hadn't, we would have ended up someone on the Eastern coast of the United States."

"Your magic never ceases to amaze me, Merlin," Leon muttered while shaking his head, proving the others had been eavesdropping too.

Guinevere slipped her hand in Arthur's when they were halfway up the road. She looked around curiously. "Very rich," she commented.

Arthur couldn't help but smirk. "What were you expecting? A normal house in a quiet neighborhood?"

"Fits your noble title, doesn't it, princess?" Gwaine playfully jibed.

"My father is all about appearances," Arthur shrugged. "A few celebrities live in this community. Even though his office is in Los Angeles, my father is willing to commute for an hour as long as he's living in a well-off neighborhood."

"To think you grew up here," Merlin commented, "were you a prat again, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned. "I might have been a little bit in high school. You can't blame me. Teenagers tend to do things they shouldn't."

"What I want to know is how you kept the English accent," said Gwaine.

"Half the men my father works with are from England, Gwaine. Not to mention I was born there and we went there on holiday every time I was out of school."

"Must be nice, being that rich," Percival mused.

"It's not as nice as you might think," Arthur muttered, finally reaching his driveway.

His childhood hadn't been easy. Daddy dearest always expected the best from him; same as he had in the past. There had been so many times that Uther had appeared disappointed in him. No matter how perfect his grades or how high his status on the football team, Arthur could never win. Uther had always had something negative to say. Not to mention he'd started dragging him to corporate events the moment he turned sixteen. He hadn't had a social life, the few friends he'd had in school only hung out with him because of who his father was, and he was raised more by private instructors and nannies than Uther himself. He had hated all of it. That was another reason he'd run away to London to study the first second he could; he was finally free to live the way he wanted to. And then Merlin had showed up and now everything was a complicated – albeit thrilling – mess.

"Holy – this is your _house_?" Elyan asked in an awed voice.

They stood on the cobbled drive in front of the Head Estate, taking in the magnificent sight. It wasn't as grand as Camelot but it was rather impressive in its vast size. The twenty thousand square feet house was made of thick gray stone, containing several bedrooms, a library, a home theater, an indoor pool, two private studies, and a grand staircase. It had always been just a home to Arthur but to his friends, it was obviously much more. He tried not to feel too self conscious as he trudge past a large fountain in the front sporting a dragon.

"Howard has probably already gone home for the day," Arthur mused, "but the night staff should be awake."

Without explaining who Howard was – the head butler – Arthur rang the bell and waited.

"Why don't you just walk in?" Gwaine asked.

Arthur scowled. "You're forgetting Uther sort of disowned me before we went to rescue Merlin."

"You're joking!"

"He's not, Gwaine. I was there," Morgana muttered.

"So was I. Uther was quite upset," Leon sighed.

"Should I start looking up cheap hotels in the area just in case then?" Gwaine teased.

Before he could answer, the door opened to reveal a lovely woman with tinted skin, green eyes, and a lovely smile. "Esme," Arthur greeted with his crooked grin. "How are you?"

"Mr. Head!" she cried in a light Spanish accent. "I'm surprised to see you."

"Is my father home?"

She hesitated before nodding.

"May we come in then?"

Esme bit her lip. "I don't know if you should. He told us that you were dead to him, sir."

Arthur scowled. He didn't have time for this. Politely but forcefully, he pushed his way past her into the house, pulling Guinevere along with him. The others followed despite Esme's protests.

"You really should go," she urged, flapping her arms towards the door. "Mr. Head will not be–"

"Arthur!"

There, standing at the top of his grand staircase in a pair of slacks and a long sleeve dress shirt, was a rather tired looking Uther Pendragon. Though he held himself well, Arthur could see that his father had lost a lot of weight. His skin tone was whiter too, paler than before. It took a great amount of effort but the former king managed to keep himself erect as he came down the staircase to face his wayward son. Dismissing Esme with a flick of his hand and a warning glare, Uther turned to Arthur and frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"It's nice to see you too, Father," Arthur said. "If you must know, I decided to come home for the holiday."

It did not escape the old king's attention that Arthur's hand was clasped firmly within Guinevere's nor that he was accompanied by a gathering of former knights, Gaius, Morgana, another unknown girl, and a certain cheeky warlock. Uther's eyes widened.

"You!" he shouted, pointing at Merlin in dismay.

"Me," Merlin grinned. "Nice to see you again, sire."

Uther scowled. "You had magic in the past!"

Merlin shrugged. "Still do, actually."

The old king's face paled considerably worse as he took a step back in alarm. "You brought a _sorcerer_ into my house?" he cried, flabbergast as he rounded on Arthur.

"Like I said before, Father, Merlin is my brother in all but blood. Where I go, he goes."

"He's not welcome here and frankly, neither are you," Uther snapped. "I thought you would have remembered that or have you forgotten our last meeting?"

"I remember it well enough," Arthur said. "But Father–"

"– I disowned you!" Uther interrupted. "You have proven to me that you care more for the likes of this filth" – he stared pointedly at Merlin – "than you do for your own flesh and blood. And since you love his kind so much, I took the liberty of having you evicted and removed from that college you were attending in London. I will not continue to provide for nor support a traitor."

"You had me evicted?" Arthur cried incredulously, anger beginning to burn within his breast. "You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right!"

"But what about all of my things?"

Uther looked smug as he answered, "Everything you owned was purchased by me, Arthur. I confiscated and donated it to the Salvation Army. Now, since I no longer accept you as my son, get off my property!"

"But I came all this way to see you!" Arthur protested.

"Then you wasted your time," Uther snapped. "Now, if you don't leave, I'll call the authorities and have you and your poor choice in company arrested for trespassing."

The light above them flickered and Arthur inwardly cringed. He knew it was coming and therefore wasn't at all surprised when Merlin let go of Freya and strode forward to address Uther himself. The warlock was angry, his eyes flickering with an inner rage that left many a grown man cowering back in Camelot's court. Uther's own eyes possessed that same amount of fear but he held his body steady; ever the stalwart man he'd been in both Arthur's lifetimes.

"Will you give it a rest already?" Merlin snapped, the power of his magic barely contained under his skin. "We already know that you're dying from cancer – Gaius told us. You apparently traveled halfway around the world to be with your son one last time and ended up disowning him in a fit of rage. Now he's here, wanting to spend time with you, and you're willing to throw it all away? You're still the same stupid, arrogant, prideful tyrant you once were as far as I can see. Can you not just let it go and spare a little time for a son who, for some mystery, still loves you?"

Uther, after getting over his shock and hiding his fear of having someone with magic so close to him, stood to his full height and let his temper rule him. "How _dare_ you address me in such a manner!" he cried. "You are nothing but a _serving_ _boy!"_

Merlin's entire presence seemed to change in an instant and Arthur witnessed the bumbling friend transform into the mighty form of Emrys. Power radiated from Merlin's body and his stance became that befitting of a king. Uther noticed the change as well and took another unconscious step back.

"You may have once given me that position, Uther Pendragon, but before that I was and have always been Emrys, High Priest of the Old Religion, King of the Druids, and servant to the Once and Future King. After your death, my King honored me with the position to serve as his Court Sorcerer and First Advisor. I will not allow a petty man who allowed hate to rule his actions dictate what I can and cannot do. I answer to Arthur and Arthur alone. And if you threaten him in any way, you will have my full wrath to deal with and believe me when I say, you will rue that day should it come."

"Are you threatening me, boy?" Uther asked despite himself.

" _Boy?"_ Merlin scoffed. _"I'm older than you by_ centuries _, Uther!_ You would do well not to jump to conclusions and delude yourself into believing that you are still my superior. _I am over fifteen hundred years old._ Yes, that's right; _I never died._ I continued on living and I used that time, _your_ _Majesty,_ to learn all manner of things. I have been exposed to more than you could possibly imagine and I have seen things that would make your nightmares seem like mere childhood daydreams. With the massive amount of knowledge that I have, I could destroy the entire company you built in this day and age in less than a fortnight.

"Now, I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here because of Arthur. He wants to spend this holiday with you and you might want to take up his offer since you'll be dead before the end of next year. You missed out on creating some of the happiest memories you could ever imagine due to your stubborn pride in the past; don't let it ruin what might be the one opportunity you have left in this lifetime."

Then, turning his back on a rather astonished Uther, Merlin addressed an equally shell-shocked Arthur. "I'm tired, Arthur. I'm going upstairs to find a room. Sort things out with your father and call me if you need anything."

And without waiting for an invitation or directions as to where he would find a spare bedroom, Merlin marched past Uther and climbed the grand staircase behind him, disappearing once he reached the upper landing without looking back.

There was a stunned silence for a moment before Freya sighed. "I'd better go after him – make sure he's okay – excuse me." She inclined her head towards the royals in the room before running up the stairs after her warlock.

Gwaine decided to be the next to break the now awkward silence descending upon them. Letting out a fierce yawn, he lumbered over to Arthur and clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll leave you to sort things out with the former king, eh? Come on guys."

The knights didn't need another prompting; all of them made for the stairs immediately. Uther was about to protest when the click of Morgana's heels made him forget all about the knights. The older Pendragon froze where he stood but the beautiful brunette didn't even spare him a glance as she joined Gwaine at the base of the stairs and started to climb them. Gaius excused himself as well with a brief, apologetic look at Uther, leaving him, Arthur, and Guinevere in the entranceway.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry about Merlin," he apologized, regaining his father's attention, "he can be quite a handful when riled."

Uther's anger started to be rekindled but before he could say anything, Guinevere stepped forward. Being a queen now herself, she did not act as servant but as an equal to him, inclining her head but keeping her eyes fixed with his.

"Sire," she addressed in a calm tone, "I know that we have behaved poorly but our actions were dictated by your reluctance to let us stay here. I implore you to do as Merlin suggested and set aside your pride. Spend this time with your son. He's going to be a very busy man in the coming months and it wouldn't do to have either of you part on bad terms." She turned to Arthur and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "I'll leave the two of you alone," she smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly before following the small Exodus up the stairs in search of a room of her own.

Arthur would have had her stay in his but he knew better than to suggest it. They may now be engaged but they'd made the decision to wait until they were married before sharing a bed again. He was unaware of his father's calculating expression, so focused was he on Guinevere; the way her hips swayed back and forth in those tight jeans… the way her short curls bounced about her face… Arthur sighed.

"You really are in love with her, aren't you?"

Arthur jumped. He'd entirely forgotten where he was for a moment there, he'd become so lost in memories. He was surprised not only at finding himself still with his father but also the completely curious tone in which he had been addressed. He had expected Uther to be angry but the inflection in his voice suggested otherwise.

Arthur took it as a good sign to be honest so he answered with conviction, "I am."

"And you loved her before?"

"Yes. I never loved another," Arthur confessed. "I know that in the past you wanted me to marry in order to further the kingdom but you were under the falsehood that I had to marry nobility in order to make that happen."

"What do you mean?" Uther asked, seeming genuinely curious rather than accusing.

Confused but not willing to question this sudden turn in his father's mood, Arthur answered, "Guinevere was exactly the queen Camelot needed. She was compassionate, understanding, and provided insights that none of the nobility even thought to consider. Having been one of them, Guinevere had the allegiance and love of the people from the moment I announced our engagement. She understood them, connected with them, cared for them, and helped me build a kingdom where everyone was treated fairly. She's a remarkable woman, father. I wish that you could have seen that _before_ but perhaps _now_ …"

Uther didn't say anything. He merely stared at his son, his eyes ever calculating with intense scrutiny. Arthur fought the desire to fidget. It was moments like this that made him wish he could read minds. Just when he was about to demand his father say something, Uther let out a heavy sigh.

"It's late. We'll continue this discussion in the morning." He began moving to the staircase. "Get some sleep, Arthur."

Arthur stood there in shock. "Does this mean I'm allowed to stay?"

Uther glanced back at him, his expression unreadable. "For now," he said before turning to head up the staircase again.

Arthur wasn't fully reassured, however. "What about the others?"

Uther sighed. "They've obviously invited themselves into the house. I'm not going to kick them out, Arthur. We'll discuss things in the morning."

He sounded exhausted. Arthur decided to let it go. He stayed at the bottom of the staircase though, watching his father as he struggled up the stairs. It was such a strange sight; Uther had always been strong in this life. Seeing him like this, so careworn, reminded Arthur of the year before his death in the past. Though that had been due to Morgana's betrayal and was more emotional deterioration instead of physical, the toll on the old king's appearance was similar. It was hard to believe that stage four cancer dwelled beneath the form of the man he'd looked up to in many ways. Without realizing it, a tear had escaped Arthur's eye, traveling down his cheek as he witnessed his father make it to the upper landing before disappearing from view.

"I hope we can work this out," he muttered to himself.

Sighing, he made the same trek as the others, wandering down the pristine halls towards his old bedroom. He was somewhat surprised but pleased that none of the others had taken his room without knowing who it belonged to. Not even bothering to look around to become lost in memories – he was too tired – Arthur stripped off his shirt, shoes, and socks before turning off the light and climbing into bed. Sleep claimed him shortly after he closed his eyes, providing sweet relief from the earlier stresses of the day.

* * *

 **Oh boy! What a fine pickle I've placed our Merlin favorites in, huh? What's going to happen this lovely New Years Eve? Will Uther forgive Gaius, accept the knights and Gwen, patch things up with Morgana, and give Arthur closure? Will Merlin really propose to Freya now that they can be together? Be sure to come back to find out next time! Reviews are like candy!**

 **(Thanks koala789 for pointing out my small mistake. I think I've fixed it.)**


	28. Chapter 28

**See _Mer_ lin? The fans **_**loved**_ **my author's note!**

 **They loved it because I commented on how much of a prat you were being.**

 **Nonsense! I think they like me better than the author!**

 **Maybe we shouldn't be doing this.**

 **Don't worry, Harry, she's never going to -** ***gasps* Um... it was Merlin's idea to steal the computer again?**

 **Hey! Don't blame me!**

 **(gives all three best glare she can muster) Maybe if you _asked_ me I'd let you take over the author's notes, Arthur. **

**Really?**

 **No. Now go off and run your kingdom or go hunting or something. I've got a very important chapter to give our lovely readers - and you guys are going to love it! I hope. A long awaited moment is going to happen here... perhaps it will bring lovely reviews my way? I can't tell you all how much I love hearing your responses. They are the apple of my eye. No, Gwaine, not a _literal_ apple. Go hunt with Arthur and Merlin; I don't need you trying to write the author's note too! And Harry, dear, shouldn't you be attending Auror training? Anyway, to answer a review posted by SantaClaws3, no I didn't realize the idea of power stones had been used in Eragon. I've only read the book once and it was a long time ago. Sorry I didn't realize the idea had already been copyrighted! I don't claim it at all. Thanks for the heads up! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or any ideas belonging to Eragon.**

* * *

28: Reconciliation

He was burning. Smoke filled his lungs, his eyes watering not only from the fumes but also the scene playing before his helpless form. He watched in terror as the king's retreating figure never looked back, the cold rejection sending shards of ice through his heart while his exterior burned.

" _Arthur!"_ he shouted over the roar of the flames. "Arthur, I'm sorry! Arthur, _please!"_

Another figure appeared then; one Merlin never thought he'd ever see again. Dressed in chainmail with a sword glinting evilly in his hand, was Mordrid. Merlin watched, horrified, as his king was run through by the former knight. As Mordrid withdrew his sword and Arthur fell to his knees, Merlin screamed.

" _Merlin!"_

Someone was shaking him. But how could that be? He was tied to a post, burning, and Arthur – _Arthur needed help! He had to help him!_

"Merlin, _wake up!"_

The warlock's eyes flew open, flashing a brilliant shade of gold. The burst of magic not only pushed the person who had woken him back but also caused the windows in the room to completely shatter. For a moment Merlin panicked, unfamiliar with where he was. The room was painted in rich burgundy lined with gold. A large floor-length mirror – now broken – stood in one corner, a dresser in the other, and he was lying on one of the nicest beds he'd ever had the pleasure of waking up in.

Before he'd had a chance to take in anything else the door was thrown open, revealing one of the men to star in his dreams. Though he was shirtless and wearing a pair of modern pants, Arthur held Excalibur in his hand at the ready, his body poised for some kind of attack. Gwaine, Percival, and Lancelot were right behind him, similarly armed, and Merlin could guess that Leon and Elyan were behind them. A light hiss of pain caught everyone's attention as Freya pushed herself up from the ground, leaning against the wall.

"Freya," Merlin breathed, his heart clenching as he noticed the small amount of blood running down her forearm. He flung back the covers to get to her but Arthur gave him pause.

"Don't move, Merlin," he commanded, "there's glass everywhere."

Merlin blinked. Glass? He looked around and finally noticed the damage. Oh no. This was his fault. Horrified, Merlin ignored Arthur's order and flung the covers aside, not even noticing they were soaked with his own sweat. Eyes blazing gold, he waved his hand and the glass shards around the room flew back to the windows and mirror, reassembling into solid panes. Merlin was next to Freya before the knights even made it into the room.

"Freya," he muttered, "I'm so sorry."

Despite the cuts, Freya smiled. "It's alright, Merlin. You didn't mean to."

Her arm was covered in scratches, the worst being around her elbow; she must have raised her arm to protect her eyes when the glass had shattered. Merlin wasted no time healing her, mending the skin immediately and clearing away the blood, grateful that he'd finally managed to master the art of healing after eleven hundred years of practice; it had been terribly difficult to learn but persistence and hundreds of years had finally paid off. Pleased with his work, he took a step back and then the guilt hit him. It was his fault that she'd been hurt in the first place.

"What happened?" Arthur asked.

Merlin didn't answer. If it had just been Arthur he would have but the knights were here. He didn't want them to know how weak he was. He was supposed to be _better_ than this! It had been centuries since he'd woken from a nightmare and instinctively triggered his magic. The last time he'd done it, he'd nearly caused an earthquake in Camelot. That had been right after Arthur's death.

Freya's comforting hand rested on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin?"

"It's nothing," Merlin muttered, his eyes on the floor. _Please let them leave,_ he silently begged.

He could feel Freya scrutinizing him for a moment before she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Merlin finally glanced up at her to find a reassuring smile on her face. She then stood up and addressed their rather concerned friends.

"Merlin's fine. Why don't all of you go back to sleep?"

Arthur immediately began to protest. "But–"

"I'll take care of this, Arthur," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Go on. We'll see you in the morning."

Merlin figured that Arthur would continue to put up a fight so it surprised him when the king let out a defeated sigh. "Fine, just, if you need anything…"

"I'll let you know," Freya assured. "We both will."

Merlin felt Arthur's mind probing against his. He considered not answering the connection but he knew he could never refuse Arthur.

" _Merlin, are you alright?"_

" _Yeah… just a nightmare."_

" _You shattered the windows,"_ he said though from his tone Merlin knew he wasn't angry.

" _Yes, I suppose I did. But I fixed them."_

" _Do you want me to stay?"_

Merlin finally looked up at him. Gwaine and Lancelot still hovered in the doorway just behind Arthur, both mirroring the king's concern. Merlin tried to smile at them.

"I'm fine," he said aloud, silently adding, " _You can go ahead and go, Arthur. Freya will take care of me."_

"If you're sure," Arthur muttered aloud. Merlin nodded. "Alright." He left, dragging Gwaine and Lancelot with him.

 _"Call if you need me."_

 _"I will. Arthur?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Thank you."_

The connection broke, leaving Merlin alone in his thoughts. In the past he would have hated having Arthur coddle him but given recent events, it was comforting to know how much the king cared. The more caring Arthur was, the easier time Merlin had remembering his nightmare would never become a reality. An unconscious shiver ran through him as the cold rejection nightmare-Arthur had given once more played through his mind. A warm pair of hands gently took his shaking ones and Merlin found himself staring into the eyes of his beloved.

Freya's brown irises were filled with compassion, her soft lips, now brushing his cheek, sending a message of assurance. "Let's get you back in bed."

Merlin allowed her to help him to his feet and guide him, all the while muttering, "I'm sorry."

Freya gently pushed him down on the bed and pulled the covers up over his chest, kissing him on the forehead. She took his hand and rested his fingers against her cheek. "I'm fine, Merlin," she smiled. "You were having a nightmare. I don't hold what happened against you."

"But _I_ do! I haven't had a magical panic attack like that in _centuries_ ," Merlin complained. "Why now?"

"Don't you dare start thinking you are weak because you panicked from a nightmare, Merlin," she gently scolded. "You went through a traumatic experience. It's natural for you to have setbacks."

"I _know!_ You, Arthur, and everyone else keep saying that–"

"– Then why aren't you listening?"

Merlin flinched. The words were not spoken harshly but he felt like he'd been burned nonetheless. Eyes downcast on the burgundy comforter covering his pale form, the warlock mumbled some unintelligible words.

Freya let out a sigh before taking Merlin's chin and angling his face up towards her. He would have kept his eyes averted but the pull to see her face was too strong. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He hoped it wouldn't be disappointment; he was already inflicting enough of that upon himself already. What he found in her countenance surprised him for it was not disappointment but love.

"You are the greatest sorcerer this world has ever known, Merlin," she said with firmness and conviction, "Magic itself. You are King of the Druids, the Protector, Advisor, and Court Sorcerer to the Once and Future King. You are Emrys, the greatest of them all. But you are also a man. And that means you are imperfect and prone to the tendencies of man, the good as well as the bad. Power does not make you infallible, Merlin, nor does it require you to forsake humanity. You have suffered greatly and it is natural for you to be experiencing vulnerability. Does this limit your strength or weaken your character? Only if you choose to allow it to do so. But I know you; you're a fighter. I don't believe you will allow your doubts to invade your convictions. You will get past this. I know you will. You just need to be patient with yourself and accept that showing weakness and allowing others to help you is true strength. Do not let pride and vanity disturb your peace, my love. It will lead you to nothing but ruin."

Merlin stared up at her, basking in the logic and comfort of her words. They dispelled his fears and calmed his troubled heart. His anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by a loving tenderness for the woman at his bedside. He smiled up at her, his eyes soft, and she returned the gesture with a radiant smile of her own.

"I love you," he whispered.

Her smile grew. "I love you too."

Merlin didn't want her to go away. She'd been sleeping in the same room – the couch he'd neglected to notice earlier sporting her resting place with a pillow and blanket – but he didn't want her to leave his side. An overwhelming need to have her close, to have her physically in his arms, compelled him to plead.

"Stay with me."

Her chocolate eyes softened. "Okay," she muttered.

Merlin lifted the covers and scooted over, giving her room to join him. The mattress was a queen size so there was plenty of room. Freya slipped between the covers and cuddled up close to him, allowing his arms to wrap around her small form. Having her so close, Merlin let out a contented sigh, his forehead resting comfortably against hers.

"This is nice," he mumbled.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek, the pad of her thumb stroking his skin.

Warm shivers cascaded from her touch all the way down to his toes. Happiness blossomed in his chest. Merlin searched her gaze, drinking in how beautiful she was, before leaning in and kissing her. Freya's response was tender and gentle, the exact reaction Merlin longed for. It conveyed her love for and acceptance of him; the same as their first kiss all those years ago.

"How I've wanted to hold you like this," he whispered, "touch you like this." He slowly moved his hand up the side of her body. Freya shivered beneath him in pleasure, a happy sigh escaping her mouth.

"I've longed for this too," she answered as Merlin's trailing hand rested in her own, their fingers intertwining.

"I never thought… we'd be able to have what others do," Merlin admitted.

Freya nodded. "As did I, but it seems Fate has finally decided to smile upon us."

Merlin looked at her, determined to commit every part of her to memory; her soft face, her rounded nose, her large eyes, her sensual lips, the way her hair fell. True beauty. He never thought he'd see such ever again. Reaching, his long fingers rested against her neck, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

"Marry me," he whispered.

Tears sprung into her eyes, causing them to shine as a smile as radiant as the sun exposed her inner joy. "Of course," she answered, her voice quivering with emotion.

Merlin's heart exploded. Grinning like a fool, he leaned forward and kissed her, his own tears falling down his face. One kiss became many, accompanied with brief pauses filled with nothing but laughter as the two shared in what both considered one of the greatest moments of their lives.

Sitting up, Merlin took Freya's left hand and kissed the base of her ring finger. His eyes flared gold and as he pulled away, a ring appeared. The white gold surface was engraved with a mountainside and a couple of cows, crowned with a large round sapphire between two strawberry-shaped rubies with little emerald leaves.

"Merlin," Freya gasped, her voice filled with awe.

"You like it?"

"It's _beautiful_ ," she praised. Raising her eyes to meet his, they renewed with happiness and love, causing them to sparkle. "I'll cherish it forever."

Merlin grinned before wrapping her again in his arms. She buried her head into his shoulder and the two didn't move for what felt like hours. They didn't speak because there simply wasn't a need. They finally had each other, accomplishing what Merlin had long thought impossible. The woman he loved would finally become his wife.

There was no need to run away this time. Arthur knew the truth, Freya was no longer cursed, and he was no longer immortal. For the first time in what felt like a millennia, Fate was smiling upon him.

[][][]

Uther had been up for hours – ever since he'd heard the scream and the shattering of glass down the hall. He'd recognized the voice at once and heard the panicked cries of his son and his _friends_ as they sprinted past his bedroom door to get to the source of the noise. As things quieted down, Uther couldn't help but wonder what had caused the sorcerer to yell? And why did he have a heavy suspicion that several of his windows were now broken? The millionaire stewed as he thought of how he could make the sorcerer pay for the damages because he sure wasn't going to!

The boy – man – old man? – _whatever_ he claimed to be – had grown to annoy him in the past but Uther had allowed Merlin to stay due to the relationship he had somehow formed with his son. Many probably thought that the former king hadn't been paying attention to the manservant before and Uther wanted to keep it that way now in the future. Why? Well, because Merlin puzzled him and he wasn't ready to admit to anyone that he was intrigued as well as confused by his… friendship?... with his son. He also couldn't figure out his feelings towards what he thought of the man concerning last night's confrontation.

He wasn't impressed – _definitely_ _not!_ – that the sorcerer had stood his ground and spoken his mind. Okay, maybe he was… _but only a little!_ Confound it all! The man was a riddle wrapped up in a mystery!

Why would a servant who practiced magic come to Camelot and serve under Prince and eventual King Arthur? What had been his motive? Uther had first jumped to the conclusion that Merlin had only stayed by Arthur's side to manipulate and force him into doing his will but the old king had periodically watched his son in death and, though he didn't agree with it, he knew that Arthur's decisions were solely his own. Granted, Arthur had strangely gone to Merlin repeatedly for advice, but that was all the sorcerer had given him. He hadn't cast any spells, forced Arthur into doing something against his will, or betrayed him in any way, shape, or form.

It was painful to realize that Arthur's actions of lifting the ban were entirely his own and not that of the sorcerer. His motivation, Uther surmised, was probably largely due to Merlin but there had been other factors that helped change the young king's mind. And, the most bitter revelation of them all for Uther to swallow, was that the decision to restore magic to the land opened the gateway of uniting all the kingdoms under one rule – _Arthur's_ rule – something that had been nothing but a childish fantasy in Uther's day.

His son had succeeded him in every way possible and Uther couldn't, for the life of him, understand how. The boy had broken every rule he'd taught him. He'd knighted commoners, befriended sorcerers, and married a serving girl! Such decisions should have caused the kingdom of Camelot to fall into ruin. There were no advantages to any such decisions and yet Arthur's reign as king was revered as one of the greatest in history. Heck, before he remembered who he really was, Uther had admired the King himself, even going so far as to name Arthur after him! The irony!

Uther shook his head.

It all had to do with Merlin, the sorcerer who claimed to have never died.

Since sleep had fled completely, Uther had spent the rest of the night and early hours of the morning on his computer, reading up everything he could concerning the Arthurian legends. He was already familiar with some of the tales but the more he delved into the various articles, stories, and fables, the further his brow seemed to crease. An unfaithful queen; a forbidden intimate relationship between brother and sister; Arthur's son, Mordred, betraying and murdering him; it all left a bitter taste in Uther's mouth. He had to take several calming breaths in order to prevent himself from leaping from his bed and charging down the hall to demand answers from his son.

How could he allow that woman to be anywhere near him when she betrayed him for Lancelot, who was also in the gathering of knights that had arrived last night? And what was this concerning a child between him and Morgana? Had there been something going on between them that Uther hadn't known about? Or did they have the child after Guinevere had betrayed Arthur? And why was there no indication that Merlin had been a servant and then a Court Sorcerer in King Arthur's court? And what was this nonsense about the warlock being a dear friend to King Uther, advising him and later his son upon his death?

By the time the sun rose, Uther's head was buzzing with questions that needed answering. There were too many holes in these so-called legends. Many of them sounded like complete and utter hogwash as far as he was concerned. Slamming the computer lid shut, Uther pushed it aside and removed his reading glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nothing was making sense to him anymore.

Why should he care about the past anyway? It no longer mattered, not really. He was now the owner of a major corporation, he had stage four cancer, and he didn't need to be concerning himself with ancient warlocks, kings, and knights. He didn't have long left to live. According to Gaius's diagnosis, he had two months left, if that. His body was beginning to show the pains he'd concealed for months and he had little to no desire to spend the small amount of energy he had wandering down the hall to yell at his son and demand an explain of the past.

Uther groaned and leaned back into his pillows, thinking about how horribly he had messed up in both lifetimes concerning his relationship with Arthur. He had been rather crass in his parenting, treating Arthur more like one of his soldiers or employees than his own son. He'd pushed him away in his youth, thinking that affection would do the boy no favors later on in life. Uther reflected back on that one day, long ago in the past, when Arthur had confessed that he believed he was a big disappointment to him. How horrible it felt, hearing those words. Arthur had never been a disappointment. He was the greatest accomplishment in Uther's life and he was proud to call him his son, even more so now that he'd seen how legendary his rule had become in the eyes of men.

Uther regretted many things. He should have listened to Arthur more instead of allowing his temper and his pride to overrule common sense. He'd judged too harshly, thought too selfishly, and was too set in his noble ways to see that status meant very little when considering a person's character. Arthur was a much better man than he could ever be. Uther was prouder of him than he could say. He wished he could express his feelings but he had never been comfortable with emotions. He had been taught to hide such things; that they were a weakness that could be used against him. He'd taught this to his son but Arthur had too much of his mother in him – and the help of good friends – to fully seal off his heart. Perhaps that was what had caused him to become such a great king? He accepted his weaknesses, embracing them instead of fearing them, and allowed others to help him overcome them. Perhaps it was Merlin who taught him this?

Uther longed to know. He suddenly had a fierce desire to see the boy – man – _whatever_ – to talk to him and find out just what his relationship with Arthur truly was. It hadn't escaped his attention that in most of the – frankly frightening – Arthurian legends he'd read, Merlin and Arthur had never been far away from each other. The two shared something unique. Even in his own time Uther had noticed it. They had a bond and the old king was rather anxious to understand it. He wanted to know how his son became the great man of legend that inspired so many young boys – himself included – throughout history.

He was pulled from his musings by a knock on the door. Quirking an eyebrow, he cleared his throat and called, "Come in." His voice shook weakly and Uther hated the sound. He was meant to be strong not weak.

The door opened to reveal Gaius, his old friend and physician wearing casual dark slacks and a light blue button down shirt. "Sire," he greeted, inclining his head.

"There's no need to call me that anymore, Gaius," Uther sighed. "I am no longer a king."

"You will always be a king to me, Uther," he said kindly, closing the door and settling himself in the chair next to the bed.

"What can I do for you, Gaius?" Uther asked, his tone a little clipped. Gaius _had_ left him for Arthur after all, and, though he knew it was his own choice not to join them, Uther couldn't help feeling a little betrayed he had done so.

"I came to apologize," Gaius said, not bothering to beat around the bush. "I knew you were ill but my concern for Merlin and my desire to see the magical world caused me to forsake you. I regretted going with Arthur the second you left his flat. I'm your doctor but more so I am your friend. I'm ashamed to have abandoned you when you were in need."

Uther hadn't been expecting this. Pleased but trying not to show it too much, he fingered his sheets before brushing off the apology. "It's like you said, you had other matters that caught your attention. As you can see I managed to get back to California without your help."

"Yes but your condition has worsened from the trip," Gaius muttered, appraising him. "Leaving you was inexcusable. I'm sorry, Uther. Can you forgive me?"

Uther considered telling him no but he craved his old friend's company. He and Gaius may not have always seen eye to eye but the man was probably his only true friend – in both lifetimes. It wouldn't due to turn him away now. Besides, Uther was trying to make amends with the little time he had left. Perhaps he could even fix his relationship with Morgana? That was wishful thinking but he was determined to try. He'd had enough of pushing people away. He wanted to leave this life on good terms.

"I forgive you, Gaius," he said sincerely, "and can you forgive me, old friend, for all those times I acted out of fear and anger both in this lifetime and the last?"

Gaius smiled. "Of course I can, sire."

"I'm sorry," Uther said, the words coming from him with a great amount of effort, "I was wrong, concerning so many things."

"Uther–"

"No, Gaius, I need to say this. Please."

The old physician frowned deeply in concern before nodding his head.

Uther took a shaky breath. Was he really going to do this? Admit to Gaius all of his faults? The corporate owner looked at his doctor and saw nothing but worry and compassion in his eyes. Yes, Gaius would listen and reserve judgment. Perhaps Uther saw his relationship with Gaius as something reminiscent to that of Arthur and Merlin's – though while Arthur would listen and ask for Merlin's advice, Uther would not to do so for Gaius. Well, that was about to change.

"I regret many things," Uther muttered, closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to be freely spoken. "I'm sorry that I started the Purge, Gaius."

And he meant it too. He truly _was_ sorry. He had been petty, selfish, and heartbroken. He had allowed his sorrow to turn into a hatred that led to genocide. So many mistakes… so many failures…

Uther spoke for a good twenty minutes, apologizing to his friend for making him renounce magic, for forcing him to watch as friends he'd associated with were burned at the stake. He spoke of his regret concerning how he'd ruled his kingdom, how he'd raised his son, and how he hadn't trusted the advice of those who truly only had his best interest at heart.

"I want to make up for all of it, Gaius," Uther mumbled miserably. "I know that it may seem pitiful that it has taken the reality of death to stir my conscience but I am sincere when I say I want to make it right. I want to reestablish my relationship with my children. Morgana is my daughter in this life as well as the past; I met her mother while on a business trip in London and we made love – only once."

"Once is all it takes," Gaius interrupted with a frown.

"I know," Uther said, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. "When I learned of Morgana's existence, I provided for her and her mother. I made sure that they would both have enough finances to be secured for life."

"But you didn't want to claim her as your own?"

Uther shook his head, shamefaced. "My reasoning is that of a coward, the same as it was in the past. I did not want to lose face in the eyes of my peers for what they would call a brief moment of weakness. I regret it, Gaius. I should have taken Morgana in as my own. Perhaps, if I had, she would not have come to hate me so – in both lifetimes."

"You can't change what has already been done, Uther, but you can try to mend what has been broken," Gaius soothed, patting his hand sympathetically. "Morgana is different this time. She has chosen not to let her hatred rule her. She may come to forgive you, if you reach out to her."

"I fear she possesses too much of my stubbornness for that to become a reality."

Gaius chuckled and Uther couldn't help bitterly chuckling himself. It was the truth, after all. Arthur, though he would probably never admit it for fear of losing his manly image, was more compassionate and caring like his mother. He did possess Uther's tenacity but it wasn't as potent in him as it was in Morgana. She was definitely her father's daughter in more ways than she would ever likely acknowledge.

"You have two children with very strong personalities," Gaius laughed.

"That I do," Uther mused. "I only hope that I can return to their good graces. There once was a time, in the past, where they looked up to me."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid they are no longer children, Uther," Gaius sighed regretfully. "They have grown up and they may decide that they don't want to part with you on good terms. The best you can do is love them no matter what they choose."

"I suppose you speak from experience?" Uther asked curiously, his thoughts once again drifting to the curious case that was Merlin.

Gaius smiled, thinking along the same lines. "Merlin is far older now than I will ever hope to be and has gained experience and wisdom that I will never have. He is no longer a child and I have had to come to accept that even though he looks like he is still in his youth, he is actually an old man who has lived longer than any have the right to live. I still worry for him though and I still want to be the mentor and father figure he had so long ago. I don't think that will change either."

"Is he really centuries old?"

Gaius studied him for a moment, his raised brow making Uther feel like he was being x-rayed; Gaius had a way with making you feel like he could see right through you. "He is," he answered at last.

"But how can that be possible?" Uther scoffed. "He may be a powerful sorcerer but no man is immune to death."

The old physician smiled kindly. "From what you understand, Uther. But I'm afraid Merlin _is_ immortal – at least, he was."

" _Was?_ What do you mean?"

Gaius became rather sad, the twinkle in his eye disappearing, his brow furrowing and a frown forming on his face. "Merlin has suffered so much," he muttered, his tone weary. "Will you allow me to tell you the true story, Uther? I feel you have questions concerning my boy and what I have to share might be beneficial to you."

Uther found his curiosity and anticipation growing. "I'm all ears, Gaius."

Smiling sadly, Gaius began a tale involving a Dragonlord and a woman of no consequence who fell in love during the time of the Purge. Uther was confused since neither of these characters were Merlin but he listened, exercising patience only out of curiosity. He became burdened with guilt as he realized the Dragonlord Gaius spoke of was his former friend, Balinor, and that he was the reason the man couldn't stay with this Hunith of Ealdor. He was just about to ask Gaius what the two had to do with Merlin when the old physician revealed that they had been the man's parents. The shock deepened as Gaius spoke of Merlin having been born with magic, the first of his kind, and Uther came to realize how wrong his views concerning magic were. People may have chosen to continue to practice the magic they possessed but they didn't have a choice as to whether they had it or not. It was a gift, similar to that of an artist or a writer or a singer, and Uther had tried to wipe it out because he'd had a negative experience.

The former king's attention was caught as Gaius continued Merlin's story. Learning of Arthur and Merlin's shared destiny as Emrys and the Once and Future King helped explain why Merlin had been so loyal to Arthur in the past. Gaius said that their souls were two halves of a whole and neither was fully complete without the other. Uther reflected back and realized that the moment Merlin had stepped into his life, Arthur began to change. And with every adventure, hardship, and triumph he learned from Gaius concerning them, Uther found himself humbled and awed by Merlin's endless sacrifices.

The man's life was hardly believable; time travel and immortality were things he'd always thought as fiction not reality but Uther knew it was all true. It was a feeling he couldn't deny, the reality of it so that even if he wanted to disbelieve he couldn't. Merlin had really lived all this time, waiting for his king to return, to continue the destiny they had been given from the moment they drew breath in this world. His dedication, his loyalty, and his undying devotion to Arthur left Uther speechless. By the time Gaius finished with the most recent tale of Merlin being kidnapped by modern evil sorcerers and Arthur going off to save him, there was no doubt in Uther's mind of wanting to make the man a knight. None had ever sacrificed more for the Pendragon family and for the first time since he'd left London Uther did not resent his son or the others at all for leaving him to go and rescue the captured warlock.

"He's the greatest man the world has ever known," Uther whispered, overawed as Gaius's tale drew to a close.

"Indeed he is," his old friend agreed.

"I wish to speak with him."

Gaius froze. "Sire?"

"Gaius, please, I would like to speak with him now that I know the truth."

The physician debated a bit before sighing. "I'm afraid he may sleep until the evening hours, sire. He used a lot of magic to get us here – more than he should have."

"I'm willing to wait," Uther said resolutely. "The moment he wakes, send him to me?"

Gaius stared, shocked and surprised by the earnest desire in Uther's tone but the old king didn't care. He wanted to see the man behind the story and he was willing to wait as long as necessary in order to do so.

"I'll see what I can do," Gaius promised after a moment's silence. "But for now, let me look you over. I've only been gone for a few days but a lot can happen in that time."

Uther frowned. "I'm not any worse than before, Gaius."

"I don't believe that for a second," the old physician muttered as he walked away from the bed to a table where a folder lay containing all the notes from every doctor Uther had.

The king didn't have the energy to argue so he allowed his old friend to dot on him. He was tired, yes, but he didn't want to fall asleep. Not today. There was so much that he felt he needed to do and he couldn't accomplish anything if he was sleeping. By the time Gaius left to go order food for him from the kitchen it was around two in the afternoon. Uther frowned, wondering if Arthur was going to pay him a visit. From their conversation last night, he was sure his son would eventually come to him – out of tact if nothing else.

Uther lay back into his pillows and closed his eyes. Arthur would come when he was ready and when he did, Uther would finally be ready not only to talk but to listen. One thing he was grateful for, however; Gaius's story had answered a lot of his questions concerning the legends. More than anything he was thankful that he wouldn't have to ask Arthur about why he and Morgana had had a son together. Learning that Mordred was a druid and ally to Morgana was much easier to accept than him being an incest offspring of Uther's son and daughter. The king shook his head. This just proved that undocumented stories always became twisted and distorted over time. For a vague moment he wondered why Merlin had allowed the legends to become so warped since the man had lived all this time. Perhaps it was out of amusement? No doubt, one would need humor if they lived through countless centuries. Uther found his desire to speak to Merlin growing. It would be an enlightening conversation to say the least.

[][][]

Arthur woke with the sun streaming rudely into his face, indicating that it was well past morning hours; he wouldn't be surprised if it was already past noon! Scowling, he rolled over, already thinking of some way to scold Liam; ever since he'd hired the new manservant, Merlin had done his best to corrupt him into believing that Arthur actually liked to sleep in. It wasn't until he sat up and looked around that Arthur realized he was no longer in Camelot where he would have a manservant but in his modern room in Diamond Bar, California.

Everything came rushing into focus and for a moment the king's mind whirled to the point of making him dizzy. His breath grew short and he rested his head against his knees, trying to calm his racing heart. For the first time since having his memories return, he was finally realizing how incredibly unbelievable all of this was. He was the legendary King Arthur. He had once led men into battle, ruled a kingdom, and wielded a sword. He had a destiny, one so great that there had been many times he felt overwhelmed and unable to accomplish what was expected of him. And that destiny had followed him into the future. He was no longer a simple student trying to make it through law school and prove to his stubborn father that he was his own man. He was the Once and Future King of Albion and he had a job to do.

Arthur swallowed and willed himself to relax. He wasn't expected to accomplish uniting Albion alone – he never had been. Merlin was there. Merlin would help him. There was no need to panic. The world may be a lot bigger and incredibly skeptical concerning whom he was but Merlin was at his side. Everything would be alright.

Perhaps he was experiencing the magnitude of his destiny now instead of before because the nostalgia of returning had ended and the crisis concerning Merlin had finally been averted? Being back in Diamond Bar might also having something to do with; accepting that the life he'd lived in the future had been nothing but a stepping stone in helping educate him concerning this world. Arthur shuddered just thinking about returning without having a knowledge of the future; being here temporarily in his younger years to help with the Hogwarts Battle had been enough to scare him out of his wits concerning modern day concepts. He had been immensely grateful to return to his own time where everything made sense and he was in complete control of his life. But was he now?

Sure he knew a lot about how the modern world worked but how did he as King Arthur fit into it? The magical world seemed to accept him; well, those who had met and worked alongside him anyway. The majority of witches and wizards were probably still very skeptical concerning who he claimed to be. Arthur couldn't really blame them either. Ugh, it was going to take a _lifetime_ convincing them of the truth! And he didn't even want to think about how difficult it would be convincing the rest of the world! The king dropped his head in his hands, feeling like the world rested on his shoulders.

There was a quiet knock on the door before it slowly opened. "Arthur?"

"Guinevere!" Arthur snapped up straight and he managed to smile despite his heavy thoughts.

She looked rather pretty today in a pair of tight blue jeans and a light pink sweater. Her short curly hair was held back away from her face by a thick pink headband, tied at the base of her head. Large round earrings dangled from her ears, shimmering lightly as she entered his room with her own returning smile.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," Arthur answered, kissing her in greeting.

When they pulled away she was staring at him knowingly, one of her eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Arthur."

Arthur deflated. He'd learned after twenty years of marriage that it was very difficult to lie to his wife. "I'm experiencing what I guess you could call an identity crisis," he finally confessed.

And then he told her everything, his fears, his worries, his insecurities. Guinevere listened, her hand in his, sitting comfortably beside him on the bed providing silent comfort as he spoke. When he finished, he felt much better. Sharing the load with someone else always seemed to sedate his nerves. Guinevere leaned over and kissed the side of his head.

"It's alright to be feeling this way, you know," she smiled. "The rest of us experienced something similar earlier this morning."

"So it wasn't just me?" Arthur wondered, curious as well as concerned. Was it just a coincidence that all of them were feeling this way on the same day?

Guinevere nodded. "I think none of us got a chance to come to terms with being legendary figures what with Merlin being kidnapped and all. We've been up for several hours discussing what to do now. I figured I'd come and wake you since it's almost three in the afternoon."

"Three in the afternoon?" Arthur cried. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"You looked like you needed it last night," she shrugged. "And I didn't see the harm since we're going to be staying up late tonight anyway."

She had a fair point there. Wait –

"Guinevere, when you say that all of you have been up for hours discussing… things… does that mean my father has been interrogating you?"

Guinevere shook her head. "None of us have seen him since last night. Gwaine was brave enough to venture out and find the kitchen. We've been holed up in the large bedroom where he, Percival, and Lancelot slept, eating cereal and catching up on things. By the way, how did it go with your father?"

Arthur wasn't at all surprised that Gwaine would be the one to steal from his father's kitchen; he'd had plenty of experience of that in the past. Knowing Gwaine, he probably nicked a few apples too. Arthur hoped Uther wouldn't mind the small raid – better yet, he hoped he didn't find out about it at all.

"He didn't say much," he finally said with a shrug. "He more or less said we'd discuss things in the morning. I should go and see him but I want to check on Merlin first."

"He's still sleeping," Guinevere informed as she watched him go to his closet and pull out a red shirt sporting California in big yellow letters. "Freya suggested not waking him. He still needs to recover from the transportation spell and he was up for a while after last night's incident."

"Leave it to Merlin to jeopardize his health. What made him stay up after we left?" Noticing the humungous smile on his wife's face, Arthur raised a curious brow. Why was she… wait, last night he left Merlin in Freya's care… "Hold on," he cried, his eyes widening, "you're not implying that he did something with Freya, are you?"

Guinevere started laughing, knowing exactly what Arthur was getting at. "He and Freya didn't do anything last night, Arthur. Well, not anything that you might be suspecting."

"Oh," Arthur muttered, trying to ignore how awkward he felt talking about Merlin's love life. Pushing the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, he cleared his throat. "Good… that's, um, good… But… something did happen?"

"Oh yes," Guinevere was beaming now, her eyes bright with happiness and her form positively bouncing with excitement. She looked so adorable in that moment that Arthur couldn't help grinning himself.

"Pray tell, what has you so excited?" he invited, walking away from his closet and pulling her to her feet.

Guinevere was near to bursting so when she did speak, she nearly squealed. "Merlin proposed!" she cried, latching on to Arthur in a tight hug. "Isn't it wonderful, Arthur?! Finally, after all this time!"

Arthur froze in shock. Merlin had proposed? Merlin, pegged by most as Camelot's resident bachelor, had _proposed?!_ The revelation finally managed to fully sink into his brain and then the king grinned before he fully burst out laughing, his elation and happiness growing every passing second until they reached the same state as his wife.

"You should see the ring, Arthur," Guinevere continued, "It's _beautiful!_ Freya said he made it with magic! They didn't discuss wedding dates yet or anything but it's finally happening! Can you believe it?!"

"The idiot," Arthur chuckled, "it's about time. Why'd he have to propose last night when all of us were in bed? He was there when I proposed to you for the first time! How is it fair for him to propose and not tell me he was going to?"

Guinevere swatted him playfully on the chest. "You're not mad at all and you know it."

Arthur grinned before kissing her. "You're right, I'm not. I suppose it is just like Merlin to privately propose. He's never been one for fanfare."

"Even though you've made it one of your life goals to change that," Guinevere chuckled, "all those feasts and banquets in his honor; the poor man suffered through them for you but everyone knew he hated being under the spotlight."

"Must be ten times worse for him now," Arthur mused humorously, "what with the whole Wizarding World practically worshipping him."

"Which is why his wedding is going to be a private affair," Guinevere stated, her tone brooking no argument. "The last thing we need is a bunch of wizard paparazzi trying to crash his and Freya's wedding."

Arthur frowned. "Like we would let them do that. Don't worry, Guinevere, I'm sure we'll find a way to make the whole experience perfect for them."

"Arthur, don't go planning his wedding," she warned. "Let Merlin and Freya make the decisions. Besides, you have your own wedding to plan, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Arthur grinned, pulling her closer to him, "how could I forget?"

He leaned down and smiled into the kiss, enjoying the softness of Guinevere's lips over his. They fit perfectly, as they always had, and a deep desire stirred within the lower half of his body. He pulled away, fighting temptation.

"We really shouldn't be alone in my room right now," he muttered, trying and failing to hide his desire for her.

Guinevere noticed anyway and laughed, taking a step back to give him enough space to calm down. "One kiss and you lose all control," she teased.

"Don't tempt me, Guinevere," he muttered, "It's taking everything I have not to pick you up and carry you over to that bed."

"Sorry," she said sincerely.

"S'alright," Arthur groaned.

Trying to help, Guinevere suggested, "Perhaps it would be good for you to visit your father? I'm sure he's up by now."

"That's an excellent idea," Arthur agreed, taking her hand.

The small amount of physical contact sparked more of a reaction than he'd anticipated, however, and Arthur couldn't help kissing her again. Pulling her to him, his lips found hers and he immediately began exploring her neck. Moving her sweater off to the side, his lips trailed down until they reached her shoulder, lingering there. A small moan of pleasure hummed in Guinevere's throat and she tightened her hold on his back, pushing her body further against his in longing. Arthur's mouth didn't linger for very long; only just enough to leave a light love mark on her skin. Admiring it, he smiled before kissing her on the lips again.

"Arthur," she breathed.

"Mmmhmm?"

"We need to stop."

Her voice was weak and he knew if he continued, her resolve would shatter. His better judgment won over his desire and Arthur pulled away, resting his forehead against her marked shoulder.

"You're right," he groaned, "I'm sorry."

"You're not the only one who wants to continue," she sighed, "but we need to be respectful. This is your father's house and we made a decision to wait until we were married again."

"I can have Merlin magick us to Vegas the second he wakes up," Arthur mused, half-serious.

"Though I don't want a grand wedding this time, I most definitely don't want a Vegas one either," she answered with a laugh. "I'm sure we can find someone to marry us in a relatively short time."

"Maybe they can marry Merlin and Freya then too," Arthur chuckled.

Guinevere rolled her eyes. "You really are set on this double wedding idea, aren't you?"

Arthur shrugged. "It would be fun. The two have practically been together for as long as we have anyway. There's no need for them to wait. They just haven't been married before."

"And so they deserve to have their own special day," she said very seriously.

Arthur faked a pout. "Alright, no double wedding then."

Guinevere laughed. "I'm sure you're not that disappointed. Now, come on, you've stalled long enough. Go and speak with your father. He's the most pressing thing we have to deal with at the moment. The other worries we all have can be discussed later. Remember what we talked about before? We need to take all of this one step at a time. It'll all work out, eventually. It always does."

Arthur took her hands and kissed them. "You always know what to say. Thank you, Guinevere."

She smiled that smile he adored before kissing him one more time. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They parted ways in the hall, Guinevere going back to the others and Arthur heading down to his father's room. He passed the room where Merlin was still sleeping and was half tempted to knock but Guinevere was right; he couldn't delay this any longer. Sighing, he pushed his fears aside and made it to his father's room. Gathering his courage, he knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," his father called.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned the golden knob and pushed the door open.


	29. Chapter 29

**199 reviews?! *squeals like a little girl* One more before we hit 200. Wow, you guys are so incredibly kind and amazing! Thank you! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this. It's one I've enjoyed writing myself and it's gone farther than I ever thought it would. There's more to come too after this one! Who knows when it'll end? I'm just going to keep writing until it feels like things are drawing to a close. That news hopefully makes you happy. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or ideas from Eragon**

* * *

29: Forgiven

"Arthur."

The Once and Future King stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. "Father," he greeted.

The sight before his eyes left Arthur disheartened. His father was lying in bed, his physical appearance weak and feeble just as it had been all those years ago before his first death. But something was different this time. Yes, Uther was conscious, but there was something about his countenance… He was scrutinizing his son, not with his usual cold calculating stare, but with an expression of puzzlement and regret.

Arthur, unfamiliar with this expression, found the situation rather precarious. Clearing his throat, he walked cautiously to the chair by his father's bed and sat down. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, not knowing what else to say and wishing his father would stop looking at him so strangely.

"Truthfully, not really," Uther answered, smiling at the surprise on Arthur's face.

How could he not be? Normally his father never admitted to feeling weak in any way, brushing off his previous conditions of illness in the past with phrases such as 'I'm fine' or 'Leave it well alone, Arthur'. Just what exactly had gotten into Uther?

"How is Merlin?"

Okay, now Arthur _knew_ something was wrong. Since when had his father cared for his former manservant?

"He's… as well as can be expected…?" Arthur answered hesitantly.

"That's good…"

"Yeah…"

Uther looked away the same time Arthur did, both feeling the awkward tension descending upon them. Arthur started to consider leaving the room just to get away from the alien vibes. If they were living in the past, Arthur would have suspected sorcery was the cause of this severe change in his father's demeanor. This caring, concerned, and vulnerable Uther was slightly scaring him.

Father and son both fidgeted for a few minutes before Uther scoffed in irritation.

"Arthur, this is ridiculous!" he complained. "Why don't you tell me what's going on in your mind?"

"Why don't _you_ tell _me_ what's going on in _yours?"_ Arthur demanded. "You're not acting like yourself, father. Normally at this point you're screaming at me in disapproval for something I've done. So why aren't you now?"

The older Pendragon let out a bone-weary sigh and Arthur feared now might not be the right time to try and pick a fight with him. He had to remind himself that his father was deathly ill. Reining in his temper, he quickly apologized.

"It's alright," Uther muttered, "I should have expected this; I haven't been much of a father to you after all."

Arthur automatically interrupted. "That's not true!"

"You flatter me, Arthur, but you and I both know that I speak the truth. And now I want to apologize to you."

Arthur's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

Uther looked up at him and Arthur saw a lifetime of sorrow and regret shining from what once were a pair of hardened gray eyes. "I'm dying, Arthur," he said bluntly. "I fear it has taken me to be lying on my deathbed to realize all of my mistakes and wish to make up for them. I will spare you the details of all my sins but I do want to talk about you. First off, I want you to know that I'm proud of you. Not only of the king you eventually became but the person you are now. You have never been a disappointment to me."

Arthur was floored. Never in a million years would he have expected this. He had geared himself up for the worst, thinking that this conversation would be similar to the one from a few days ago or along the lines of the one they had when he blew the Horn of Cathbhadh.

So it was only natural that he found himself disbelieving his father's words. "But… I knighted commoners."

"Yes."

"I married a serving girl."

"Yes, you did."

"I brought magic back to the land and made my manservant a member of the court!"

"And your rule was blessed to be the greatest this land has ever known," Uther pointed out mildly almost as if he were speaking about the weather. Not a hint of malice or disapproval coated his tone. Arthur's jaw dropped open. His astonishment caused the former king to chuckle. "I suppose I should consider it an achievement to cause the legendary King Arthur to be speechless."

Arthur closed his mouth and shook his head. "Sorry – it's just – you said you disapproved of everything I've ever done."

Uther hung his head and sighed heavily. The sound carried the weight of a lifetime of lamentation. "It was wrong of me to say those things to you. I am not an easy man, Arthur. I usually let my temper and self-righteousness dictate my actions. And though our last encounter was anything but peaceful, it caused me to do a lot of reflecting – that and Gaius revealing Merlin's story helped me draw to the conclusion of how foolish and conceited I have been. I understand a lot more now, Arthur, and I wish to convey how sorry I am to have judged you so harshly. Your rule brought about a golden age because you allowed your heart to guide your actions and embraced your weaknesses. You weighted the merit of a man by his character instead of his social standing. I admire you for being such a better man than I. I'm prouder of you than I can say. Can you forgive me, my son, for condemning your actions?"

Arthur felt like his brain had stopped working. For a long time he just stared at his father, unable to believe the man before him was the same he had grown up to know. The Uther he was familiar with rarely -if ever- admitted his faults and he _never_ changed his opinion once it had been made.

"You commend my marriage to Guinevere?"

Uther paused and shifted hesitantly. Arthur found himself filling with anger. He'd just said he was sorry for criticizing him and yet he was now vacillating? Uther seemed to notice his irritation for he hastily tried to explain.

"Arthur, you must understand that I do not know much about her."

"That could change if you'd be willing to overlook your prejudice and meet her!" Arthur snapped despite himself.

"I'm not saying that I don't want to," Uther rejoined a little testily.

"Then why do you hesitate?"

"Because she betrayed you!" Uther snapped. "According to the legends I've read, she left you for Sir Lancelot! How am I supposed to feel towards a woman who has spurned my son when he gave her everything she could ever want?"

Arthur's anger froze immediately. "Oh," he breathed, _"oh!_ You think Guinevere and Lancelot – _of course!_ You wouldn't know – you'd already thought her unworthy because she was a servant – _of course!"_

Uther scowled in annoyance. "Whatever are you going on about, Arthur?"

"Guinevere never betrayed me," Arthur stated but from the look on his father's face, he knew he'd have to explain further. He therefore gave a brief account of what actually happened.

"So it was Morgana," Uther muttered bitterly when Arthur had finished. "I never thought she would resort to such evil practices."

Arthur felt the aching sadness he used to feel whenever he thought of his sister. "She was consumed with hatred and a desire to be recognized. She saw Guinevere as a threat to her claim to be queen so she used black magic to break us apart. But it didn't work, obviously, since I married her in the end anyway."

Uther looked up at him. "How did you do it?"

Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion. "Do what?"

"Arthur, like me, you have a tendency to handle betrayal very poorly," Uther gently explained, causing his son to scowl. "You said you did not realize it was magic until long after you were married. She hurt your heart and yet you still married her. How did you find the strength to do it?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, contemplating his answer. "Honestly? I tried to move on – do what was normally expected of nobility by agreeing to marry Princess Mithian of Nemeth – but I couldn't forget Guinevere. I couldn't understand it. How could I still love someone who had betrayed me? I remember confessing to Merlin that I didn't have any idea what to do."

"What was his council?" Uther asked curiously.

"He told me that he knew of no one that would sacrifice more for Camelot or me than Guinevere and to do what my heart told me, assuring me that I already knew what that was."

"And was he correct?"

Arthur looked up at his father and smiled softly. "Yes," he muttered, "he was. I knew in my heart that I could not make myself love another. I forsook my engagement to Princess Mithian. I gave her the disputed lands of Gedref as a peace offering to prevent a war from starting between our kingdoms. She took the rejection well. If I had never met Guinevere… perhaps I would have married her."

Arthur swallowed and glance up at his father, expecting the usual look of disapproval but it wasn't there. Instead Uther's expression was contemplative. After a moment, he finally voiced his thoughts.

"What advantages did you receive by marrying Guinevere?"

Arthur blinked. "None," he said, thinking his father was asking about land and status benefits to the kingdom.

Uther shook his head. "You misunderstood me. I already know she would not have been able to provide an expansion of the kingdom's size. I want to know what she gave _you_ that helped you achieve uniting all the kingdoms."

Oh.

Arthur paused as he considered his father's question. And, as he thought, his face unconsciously softened for he focused on what Guinevere personally meant to him.

"She was the first woman to ever put me in my place," he smiled, thinking back to the time he'd started falling in love with her. "And she continued to do so, becoming bolder each time she felt I needed correcting. She saw the potential I possessed and consistently reminded me to seek after it when tough decisions were placed before me. She was true-hearted, she cared for the people, and when she became queen she ruled with her heart."

"She sounds like a good woman," Uther commented.

Arthur finally looked at his father and realized he was smirking. The young blonde found himself blushing and to his annoyance, his father chuckled. Arthur looked way, his face reddening further.

"You love her," Uther stated.

"More than anything," Arthur answered, finding the courage to look his father in the eye despite his reddened cheeks. "And I'm going to marry her again, in this lifetime. I've already proposed."

He waited, wondering what his father's verdict would be. For a brief moment he allowed his inner fear to show on his face. Uther had rejected them once before after all, going so far as to order for Guinevere to be burned at the stake. Though he didn't have the power to do such a thing now, he was still a millionaire. He could make Guinevere's life a living nightmare if he paid the right people. Arthur's unease grew.

Uther's expression remained neutral for a long time before he finally reacted with a nod. "I give you both my blessing."

"Father," Arthur rushed, "I know that she's not what you – wait – _what?"_

Uther looked amused. "I give you both my blessing, Arthur. When do you plan to get married?"

"You…" Arthur stuttered. "You…" But he couldn't seem to find his voice. Never in a million years would he have thought his stubborn father would approve of a woman beneath his standing. "You approve of Guinevere?" he rasped in disbelief.

"I do," Uther stated, his amusement now causing him to lightly chuckle. "I'd say from the way you have described her that she is the perfect match for you. Now, when do you plan to marry her? I would like to be there but if in a few months is too soon…"

Arthur's jaw hit the floor and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You want to be there," he repeated hoarsely. "You really want to be there?"

"Yes, son," Uther said his amusement slowly beginning to ebb away as impatience took hold.

Arthur, noticing the slight change in his voice, quickly apologized, "Sorry," he muttered, "I wasn't expecting this. You tried to kill her in the past just because you didn't believe I could fall in love with a serving girl. I'm having a hard time believing that you approve of her now."

Uther sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As I stated earlier, Arthur, I am a man who has made many mistakes. I'm sorry I did not bother to see how much Guinevere meant to you before. I now want to make up for that – if you and she will allow me."

Arthur shook his head, trying to clear it. "Of course!" he stuttered. "I mean, I would love for you to be there – at our wedding – but I'll have to see how she feels. Would you… would you like to meet her?"

Uther looked nervous for a second but the next his face was a carefully controlled mask. "If that's alright," he said, his voice betraying nothing of his inner feelings.

Arthur grinned. "I'll go get her."

And without waiting to see if his father would protest, Arthur practically ran out of the room. Racing down the hall, he skidded to a halt when he heard muffled voices behind a closed door. Recognizing the largest guest room, Arthur flung the door open and, without pause, found Guinevere seated next to Morgana on the floor.

"Arthur!" she cried.

The conversation in the room ceased immediately as all acknowledged his presence.

"What's up, princess?" Gwaine asked.

"My father wants to speak with Guinevere," he said, failing to contain his grin.

There was an immediate tension and Morgana instantly frowned. "I don't see why that would cause you to be happy, Arthur," she commented with bitterness in her tone. "Last I heard, Uther hated people of the lower class – no offense, Gwen."

"None taken," Guinevere smiled at her as she stood up. "I knew what you were trying to say."

"You're not actually going to go?" Elyan questioned, protective and concerned.

Guinevere frowned. "He's no longer the king and he has stage four cancer, Elyan. I don't believe there is anything that he could truly do to hurt me."

"She has a point," Percival muttered.

"Yes, but, this is Uther we're talking about," Gwaine pressed. "He may not be a king anymore but he still has money. Take it from one who is in the millionaire business – if Uther wanted to hurt her, there are several thugs milling around willing to accomplish the dirty work."

"You're a millionaire, Gwaine?" Lancelot asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, I thought I told you that before, Christmas Eve," Gwaine said with a frown. "Did you forget?"

Lancelot shrugged. "Other pressing things happened around Christmas, Gwaine."

"Oh, right," he muttered, frowning.

Gaius cleared his throat, looking away from the chess game he was currently playing with Leon. "I believe that you all shouldn't judge Uther too harshly at the moment. You may find that he is different than he was before."

Morgana scoffed. "He's never going to change, Gaius."

"I used to say that about you."

Green eyes met blue as Arthur stared intently at his sister. Ignoring the small audience they had, he continued, "I never would have thought you'd ever change from being the evil witch you turned out to be, Morgana, and yet here you are. I've been speaking with Uther for some time and I can tell you that something is different about him. I really think he's had a change of heart. And from what Gaius is hinting at, I don't think I'm the only one who believes that."

There was a brief pause as everyone looked at the old physician. Without saying a word, Gaius nodded to Arthur, the gesture enough to state his agreement.

Morgana, unsurprisingly, folded her arms and sniffed. "Well, I don't believe it."

"That is your choice," Arthur sighed before turning to his betrothed. "Will you come, Guinevere? He really just wants to talk, I promise."

"Yeah, but about _what?"_ Gwaine muttered.

Arthur scowled at him before glancing back at his fiancée. Guinevere smiled without hesitation, taking his offered hand. "We'll be back in a while," she said to the others.

"Good luck," Freya mumbled.

"You're going to need it," Morgana bitterly added.

Arthur's frown was deep as he walked with Guinevere down the hall back to his father's room. Having seen the changes for himself, he'd been rather offended by how his friends had reacted. He was grateful Gaius at least seemed to understand. As they drew closer to Merlin's room, Arthur couldn't help but wonder just exactly what the warlock would think about all of this. Arthur was more worried how Merlin would react than anyone else. He valued his warlock's opinion even above that of Guinevere.

"Arthur?"

Arthur shook himself from his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"I don't need to be worried, do I?" Guinevere asked finally showing the nerves she'd been hiding from everyone as she bit her lip.

Arthur squeezed her hand. "No," he assured, quickly kissing her forehead. "My father really has had a change of heart, Guinevere."

The two of them reached Uther's open door and Arthur knocked on the side of the wood before towing Guinevere inside. Uther was still where he'd been when Arthur had run out. He shook his head in exasperation but tried to smile as the couple approached his bed.

"Guinevere," Uther greeted.

"Sire," she replied, inclining her head.

There was an awkward moment where, once again, none of them really knew what to say. Arthur tried to think of a way to spur things along but he was drawing a blank. Uther seemed to be in the same predicament.

"Arthur said you wanted to see me," Guinevere said, trying to spark further conversation.

"Yes, I did," Uther admitted, looking around. "Please, take a seat."

Arthur squeezed Guinevere's hand reassuringly before she sat down in the chair he'd previously occupied. Holding herself with practiced ease, Guinevere's smile was encouraging and her aura full of patience. She was the picture of perfection.

Uther, having never really been around Guinevere when she was queen, was highly surprised by her confidence and said so as he commented, "You carry yourself well, for a former servant."

Guinevere decided to take it as a compliment. "Thank you," she smiled. "Twenty years as queen gave me enough practice, I believe."

Arthur smiled gratefully, feeling the tension in the air ebbing away. Guinevere always did have a knack for calming anxiety in settings such as these. The conversation became easier as Uther asked her questions about her rule by Arthur's side and what her views were concerning many different matters of state. Guinevere answered from her heart, politely but firmly, declaring her opinions without fear of what Uther thought of her. The more she spoke the deeper the approval Arthur saw in Uther's eyes. After discussing what the role of being queen meant to her, Uther turned the conversation to something Arthur had been dreading: their love life.

"How long had you been in love with Arthur before you married him?" Uther asked curiously.

Guinevere thought on it for a moment, tapping her chin. "Well, I admit, even when Arthur was a bully I was attracted to him."

"I wasn't a bully!" Arthur protested.

"You went through thirteen manservants in a period of two months before Merlin showed up," she pointed out.

Arthur ended his protests. "Fine," he grumbled, "maybe I _was_ a bit of a prat."

"You still are, according to Merlin," she teased, poking him in the arm.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, Merlin's also still an idiot."

Guinevere chuckled before going back to answering Uther's original question. "To answer you, Uther, I don't believe I started falling in love with Arthur until he tried to prove his worth in the jousting tournament."

And then she just had to go and share the tale of how Arthur had competed undercover using 'Sir William of Deira' to win the tournament without special treatment. Uther was rather amused by the end of the story, having laughed the hardest when Arthur had promised to make dinner and ended up having Merlin grab two dinners from the palace kitchens instead.

"He matured quite a bit after that," Guinevere smiled, patting Arthur's hand, "and eventually grew into the man my heart truly loves. Mind you, he never offered to cook for me again."

Uther let out a laugh as Arthur's cheeks reddened – really, he hadn't blushed this much since he was a freshman in high school!

"I'm sure that he won't try in this lifetime either," his father continued to chuckle, "especially since the last time he set foot in the kitchen he melted half of the plastic wear and destroyed a wooden spoon."

"Father," Arthur groaned as Guinevere laughed over the imagery. "I was five when that happened," he defended himself. "Since then I've learned how to cook _some_ things. I have been a college student for several years, you know."

"I suppose this is when I _shouldn't_ mention how you burned down half the complex you lived in during your first year at university," Uther asked, faking innocence.

"Oh, Arthur, you didn't?" Guinevere said, trying and failing to hide her smirk.

Arthur made sure to send his father the worst glare he could muster. The old man was enjoying himself a little too much. "I forgot to turn the stove off when I left for football practice," he muttered, eyes downcast in embarrassment.

Guinevere shook her head. "Oh, dear..."

"I'm not completely hopeless," Arthur defended. "We all know that I've never been able to cook anything before. It shouldn't be that big of a surprise. Besides, in both my lifetimes I've grown up having all my meals made and served to me by someone else. You can't blame me for setting an apartment complex on fire the first time I attempted cooking on my own. Now will you stop telling her useless stories?"

"Useless? The stories of learning from mistakes are never useless, Arthur," his father answered, hiding a grin. "I'm sure there are other things Guinevere would like to know about your growing years both in this life time and the last."

"Oh that would be lovely!" Guinevere said excitedly.

Arthur groaned. Never would he have thought he'd see the day when his father was sitting there sharing stories of his childhood with his wife. It was beyond bizarre. While he was happy that they seemed to be getting along, Arthur couldn't help feeling annoyed.

"You know, I think I'm going to check on Merlin now," he grumbled, heading for the door.

"You're not going to stay?" Guinevere asked.

"There really isn't a need," he said. "I lived through everything he's going to share with you anyway."

Guinevere smiled at him. "Don't be gone too long."

Arthur sighed. Kissing her on the forehead, he left the room and it was only after he was halfway down the hall when he realized his father might or might not have just used the tactic of sharing his embarrassing childhood stories to speak to Guinevere alone. That definitely seemed like a strategy he would use. Frowning, Arthur contemplated going back but then he decided to have faith in his father's change of heart. Besides, what harm could he do to Guinevere right now if it were all a hoax? Deciding to let things fall wherever they may, Arthur wandered down the hall to Merlin's room. He knocked twice – unlike what Merlin would have done – before letting himself in.

Merlin wasn't in the bed nor was he even sleeping. Instead the warlock was sitting in the window seat of his room, looking out at the California landscape while tossing a small ball of magic idly back and forth between his hands.

Without looking away from the window he greeted, "Hello Arthur."

"Every time," Arthur muttered, shaking his head. "You always seem to know that it's me sneaking up on you. How do you do it?"

Merlin turned and sent him a rather cheeky grin. "Magic."

Arthur couldn't help it. He picked up the nearest thing and threw it at Merlin's head. Oddly enough it turned out to be a decorative goblet on the dresser. Merlin stopped the projectile with a flash of gold, the cup sailing through the air before gracefully settling back where it originally sat.

"Very funny," Arthur muttered, walking over and joining him in the window. "How long have you been up?"

Merlin shrugged. "About an hour or two."

Arthur glanced at him. Though he'd probably received an adequate amount of rest, Merlin still looked a little tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was paler than usual. "You alright?"

Merlin smiled and Arthur was pleased to find it went all the way up to his eyes, crinkling the skin at the corners. It was nice seeing that smile again. It reminded the king of happier times.

"I am, Arthur," he assured, "I really am."

"Then why aren't you celebrating your engagement with everyone else?" Arthur asked, grinning.

To his amusement Merlin blushed and began fiddling even more with the ball of energy. "I guess I'm just having an old man moment," he confessed, "you know, where I stare off into the distance and become lost in memory, thinking how strange my life is and grateful that I finally have the chance to move forward like everyone else."

Arthur's grin widened as he playfully shoved his Court Sorcerer. "Yep, you're definitely old, _Mer_ lin. Perhaps I should give you a cane as a wedding present?"

Merlin chuckled. "You'd probably want to reconsider that. I might enchant it to follow you the whole night in attempts to trip you. You'd definitely be the entertainment for the evening."

Arthur cuffed Merlin upside the head. "I'm afraid you're wrong, Merlin, because that most certainly will be you – you don't even need an obstacle to trip after all."

Both men shared a laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. After a while, Arthur leaned against the wall and sighed. "My father is talking to Guinevere right now."

"And you left them alone I see. Well, Gwen is perfectly capable of handling the old dragon without supervision. Besides, they are technically related and it might do Uther some good getting to know his daughter in law."

"He's changed, Merlin," Arthur said.

And then he was explaining everything that had happened from the moment he'd walked into his father's room up to when he left Guinevere to come here. Merlin's eyebrows were raised and his expression contemplative as Arthur finished.

"Well?" he asked, desiring to know Merlin's thoughts.

"Well what?"

"What do you think?" Arthur pressed, agitated.

Merlin flicked his wrist and the ball of energy he'd been playing with dissipated. He gave Arthur all of his attention and smiled. "It is never too late for a man to change his heart, Arthur. If you believe your father is telling the truth then it would be wise to spend as much time repairing whatever damage there may be in your relationship with him – if that's what you want. I can see his attempts at reconciliation being a sore spot for the others -especially Morgana- but don't let that stop you from creating memories with your father that you'll cherish long after he's gone."

Arthur's unease started to settle in his stomach but there was one thing he needed to know. "What about you, Merlin?"

The warlock cocked an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Do you forgive him?"

Merlin was quiet for a long time. "You know me, Arthur," he finally said, grinning, "I'm always up for second chances."

Arthur smiled. Yes, indeed he was.

[][][]

By the time the group was ready to return to Hogwarts Merlin had forgiven and even formed a little bit of a friendship with Uther. The knights and Freya were cordial to him but Morgana still held a grudge; the memories combined with the confession of being somewhat forsaken in this lifetime were too raw for her to even consider forgiving the former king anytime soon. Merlin had assured Arthur that her opinion might change one day but Arthur had difficulties believing that. Still, it was nice seeing this new side to his father. Uther was kinder, slower to anger, and rather generous during their stay.

They ended up staying three days after the New Year. In that time, Uther had pulled all the strings and Arthur and Guinevere ended up getting married on January third. It was a relatively private affair, with present company and a clergyman. Some may think the couple was rushing into it but having already been married for twenty years in the past, only dating for a week and a half seemed more like a formality than a requirement in their case. Morgana and Freya had taken Guinevere out to find a dress the day before the wedding and the knights and Merlin had kidnapped Arthur out for a 'night he'd never forget' as Gwaine had put it.

The fool had then made them all consume so much alcohol that none of them could even remember what they did; though there was a strange report in the news the next morning about the Hollywood sign unexplainably flashing every color of the rainbow. Arthur had sent Merlin to fix it straight away, suspecting that the warlock had drunkenly transported them all over California and had a little too much fun with his magic. The Hollywood sign was now back to normal, Arthur was once again married to his wife, and this time he had his father's approval of the marriage.

Standing in the entrance way of the Head Estate, he clasped his father's hand in farewell. Uther was leaning heavily on a cane, refusing Gaius's insistence of staying in bed; he had refused to say goodbye to his family lying down.

"Take care, father," Arthur said with a smile.

"If you need anything," Uther began.

"We'll be sure to call," Guinevere finished, stepping forward to kiss his cheek.

Honestly, the most remarkable of all the changes that Uther had made was the relationship he now shared with Guinevere and the respect he showed to Merlin. He and the warlock had spent most of New Years day talking alone in his room. Arthur had been afraid that something bad had happened but when Merlin emerged he had inclined his head respectfully to Uther and Arthur before leaving father and son and walking down the hall with a spring in his step. The only thing Uther confessed to Arthur concerning the encounter was his opinion that Merlin was the greatest man he'd ever met. It had taken a full minute for Arthur to lift his jaw from the ground after that revelation.

"Take care of him," Uther said to the warlock.

"Don't I always?" Merlin asked, grinning.

Arthur mentally huffed. _"I'm not a damsel in distress, Merlin."_

" _Could have fooled me,"_ Merlin playfully jibed before outwardly addressing Uther. "If you need anything, you know how to contact us."

Uther nodded. Arthur was tempted to ask how his father would do such a thing when technology didn't work at Hogwarts but decided – for now – to let it go. He would pester Merlin about it later – along with forcing the Court Sorcerer to tell him exactly what he and his father had discussed New Years day. The curiosity was eating him alive.

Gaius had decided to stay behind with Uther to help him as his cancer progressed in its devious course. Arthur pretended to be ignorant of the tears he saw Merlin wiping away as the warlock bade goodbye to his surrogate father. He promised to come back and visit soon and Gaius had answered with a reassuring smile and a promise to have his favorite meal waiting for him. Merlin had weakly laughed before following the others out of the house and into the night. Arthur sent his father one last nod before taking his wife's hand and leading the way outside to join the others in the trip back to Hogwarts.

"Don't forget to use more than two power stones this time, Merlin," the king warned as he took his place next to Leon. "We don't want you spending a year in the Hospital Wing after all."

"Very funny," Merlin muttered, pulling six stones from his pocket. "There should be plenty here to take us back to Hogwarts without jeopardizing my health; no need to get your sword in a twist. Now, is everyone ready?"

"Ready when you are, mate," Gwaine said with a grin before muttering to Percival, "I can't tell you how excited I am; I've been suffering from firewhiskey withdrawals since last year."

"Last year was only three days ago, Gwaine," Percival pointed out.

"Don't remind me."

The air began to shimmer as Merlin activated the power stones, silencing any further conversation. Arthur caught one last glimpse of his father and Gaius waving goodbye before the world around him blurred and refocused as his feet touched down on the stone floor of his castle. The king took in the gray walls, the lighted torches, and the large Entrance Hall before smiling. It was good to be home.

* * *

 **Okay, before any of you send me hate mail, I tried really really hard to write out the scene between Merlin and Uther but no matter what I did my muse was not having it. Zero spark of creativity, guys. I'm really sorry the scene didn't end up in the chapter. But, if you caught the hint, Arthur is going to try to pull the interaction out of Merlin in an interrogation so hopefully I'll satisfy a few of your burning curiosities for what happened New Years day between the former king and the warlock. And when it comes to Guinevere and Arthur's wedding, there also wasn't a lot of inspiration since we've already seen them get married in the show. I figured I'd focus on a different wedding scene and save it for a later chapter. ;) Yeah, get excited for that one! We're heading back to Hogwarts now! Poor Merlin; he had a reprieve from his fear of wands but now I'm tossing him back into the flames. What's going to happen to our favorite warlock? Find out and please review! I'd like to know what you guys thought of the repentant Uther I ended up creating. He sort of just developed that way. I'm personally really happy with him since I think that if you removed Uther's pride that he would have been a more understanding and likable character. The poor sod is dying anyway so I showed him a little compassion and gave him a repentance story like his daughter. What can I say, I like all the changes that can happen in second chance scenarios. :)**

 **Okay, I'm going to stop rambling now. Until next time! Please review. :3**


	30. Chapter 30

**Over 200 reviews?! Holy crow, you people know how to make a fanfiction writer happy! Thank you all so much! Here, have a super long chapter as thanks! :D**

 **Disclaimer: wow, it still hasn't changed from last time. No claim to Merlin, Harry Potter, or anything else but my own imagination.**

* * *

30: Dragons and Dragonlords

Merlin woke with the rising of the sun, the dawn's early rays still too feeble to light up his bedroom. The warlock twisted over on his back and stared up at his ceiling, relishing being back where he belonged. Though Camelot was now Hogwarts, the solid stone walls and the thrum of magic in his tower were just as familiar to him now as they had been centuries ago. Stretching, Merlin got out of bed and pulled on a pair of brown trousers, dark brown boots, and a long-sleeved blue sweater. He then attached a thick red scarf around his neck and pulled a floor length brown winter coat over his gangly body. Grabbing a pair of thick woolen gloves, the warlock left his bedroom and trundled down the circular steps to the main floor of his tower.

Everything was as he had left it; stacks of books scattered about piled three feet high, sorted in various categories, mounds of vials on shelves containing herbs both rare and common completed his extensive potions collection that would make any potioneer cry with envy, and artifacts, ordinary and magical, decorated various surfaces as well as the walls. Merlin smiled. Home indeed.

Suppressing a yawn, the old warlock trundled out of his tower, idly swiping his hand behind him to shut, lock, and conceal the entrance from prying eyes. The corridors were empty, the castle quiet; even the paintings were still snoozing in their frames. If he remembered right, the students had returned yesterday, hours before they did; their group had arrived in the dead of night and as far as Merlin was aware, nobody knew they had returned. The warlock contemplated fetching Arthur a private breakfast but he changed his mind, deciding instead to stick with his original plan; Arthur could find his way to the Great Hall and get breakfast himself if he woke up while he was gone. Besides, Merlin didn't want to disturb the newlyweds; he had done that the first night of their previous life and it was one of the most embarrassing moments he'd ever had to endure.

Unable to stop from chuckling over the memory despite himself, Merlin walked down the grand staircase, past the four house hourglasses containing a variety of jewels – Gryffindor seemed to be winning again this year – and out the double oak doors onto the chilled Hogwarts grounds. A path had been paved up to the castle but the fresh powdered snow that had fallen during the night left a thin white coating over it. The rest of the landscape could resemble a Christmas card, Merlin mused, as he pulled on his gloves and walked down the path towards the Forbidden Forest.

He'd taken this path many times when attending school as a pretend student over the years. It was rather nostalgic and Merlin found himself lost further in memories both happy and sad. Entering the dark shadows of the trees, he only tripped a few times over the loose roots and rocks before reaching the clearing he'd come to many times with both a troubled and happy heart. Tilting his head back, he took a deep breath and reached for the magic he'd inherited long ago from his father.

" _ **O drakons, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"**_

Having finished the summons, Merlin wandered over to a fallen log and, after removing the excess snow, sat down upon it to wait. He entertained himself by creating a little snow tornado, watching the small cyclone pick up a few rocks and twigs as it danced around at his command. Merlin sighed. It had been a long time since he'd last summoned his kin. What with Arthur returning, the others remembering, him being kidnapped, and having to deal with everything else, he hadn't had the time to find out just how Aithusa and Altiore were doing. He felt guilty, feeling like he'd neglected them – _again_. Arthur had revealed that the only reason he and the others knew where to find him after the kidnap was because of the dragons. He owed them his thanks.

Soon enough the familiar sound of heavy wing beats reached his ears and Merlin looked up just in time to see Aithusa and Altiore descend one right after the other, the latter letting the former land first. Merlin hadn't seen the dragons since the night he left the Weasley's home to London. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Now as large and as strong as his father, Altiore's scales shimmered and cast the snow in a light golden glow. His blue eyes, inherited from his mother, shone with relief as they landed on the warlock. Aithusa had an equal emotion in her eyes as she bowed to her dragonlord.

"Merlin, you're alright!" she cried, her large head nuzzling against the warlock's side.

Merlin hugged her snout affectionately, stroking her cheek. "Thanks to you two," he muttered, drawing back so he could hug Altiore who was just as eager to greet him as his mother.

"You gave us quite the scare, warlock," Altiore muttered as the two dragons settled on their bellies and stared down at him.

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. "Believe me, it wasn't my intention to be captured by Death Eaters. Arthur told me that you two found where I was."

Aithusa smiled. "Though your magic was sealed, your scent is well known to us, Merlin. We weren't about to abandon you."

Merlin swallowed. "Thank you," he whispered. "If you hadn't been so quick to find me…" he shuddered.

Aithusa and Altiore shared a concerned glance.

"What happened to you, Merlin?" Altiore asked.

He considered not telling them but their bond, the desire to have his kin know of his plight, and telling them of the repercussions he was now facing broke his fragile reluctance. Merlin told them everything, leaving out nothing. He went into extensive detail of the torture, describing his emotions as well as his pain. The only person he'd shared this with so far was Arthur. He thought it would be too painful to declare his weaknesses and his insecurities to his kin but Merlin found some kind of weight lifting off his chest as he spoke. It was oddly therapeutic and brought a sense of relief relaying his inner demons. He ended the story with the announcement of his engagement to Freya and the former King Uther privately bestowing him a knighthood.

Tears of both sorrow and joy remained on Merlin's face by the time he finished and he wiped them away with his gloved hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't mean to dump everything on both of you."

"Oh Merlin," Aithusa muttered, nuzzling him with her snout again, "you always seem to have to suffer more than necessary, don't you?"

Merlin bitterly chuckled. "It does seem to be my lot in life, doesn't it?"

Altiore shifted a little. "Merlin," he called, gaining the warlock's attention. The dragon looked a little uncomfortable but with an encouraging nod from his mother, he plowed forward, "I know what it feels like to be chained and tortured by creatures with lesser magic than your own," he muttered. "I guess - that is - if you need someone to talk to about it - someone who can empathize with what you've suffered from - well, I can help you with that."

Merlin's eyebrows rose in surprise. He and Altiore had come a long way in their relationship but this was a whole new depth of compassion the dragon was showing him. Dragons were very proud creatures; declaring a sense of weakness was almost unheard of in their world. For Altiore to be admitting his helplessness during his time with the goblins and offering to help Merlin through the aftershocks of his own torture... it truly left the warlock speechless.

"Altiore," he muttered thickly, his voice strained from the lump in his throat.

The dragon looked sheepishly at him. "You are my kin, Merlin. I, experiencing this myself, would not wish for you to travel through shadow alone."

"Altiore has been where you are now, Merlin," Aithusa added, staring proudly at her son. "He still suffers from nightmares of torture by the goblins' hands. He has walked through the hopelessness and the despair that you spoke of. If anyone can help you, he can."

Merlin stepped closer to Altiore and the dragon lowered his head so he could rub his hands against his snout. The moment his palms rested on the sides of Altiore's scaled cheeks, Merlin felt a rush of emotion slam through his body. The white world of the forest temporarily disappeared and he found himself in what he believed to be a cave; he could feel the cold stone beneath him and heard the drip of water in the distance but he couldn't see anything. He could also feel the darkness, almost as if it were suffocating him on all sides. His heart sped with fear as his sense of smell caught hold of the stench of goblins. He could not see them and his body scrambled backward but he couldn't get away. His legs were chained and the space he was in was too confined to provide an escape. Evil laughter echoed in his ears before painful, burning heat began slashing into his body, his legs, his tail, and his face. How he wished he could beat his wings but his strength was entirely spent. He was exhausted from the lack of food and water the goblins had deprived him of for the last two months. The painful lacerations inflicted by his torturers eventually ceased and he was left to lick his own wounds as the monsters wandered away from his prison.

Merlin let out a gasp as the connection broke, falling back into the snow as his lungs heaved for air. His body ached like he himself had been tortured by the goblins and he wildly inspected it in order to make sure he was safe and whole. Tears were trailing down his cheeks as he stared up at Altiore, realizing that he had just been given a glimpse of the torture his dragon brother had had to endure before his rescue. Altiore's head hung, his own eyes filled with tears, the large drops falling into the snow.

And then the anger kicked in.

It burst from Merlin like a floodgate, filling his whole soul in a matter of seconds. His fists clenched and his teeth ground together, his magic swirling beneath his skin, his mind silently crying out to fix the injustice that had been made to a creature of the Old Religion. Those goblins had _known_ what Altiore was and yet they had treated him like a common, dumb animal. How dare they. How _dare_ they harm his dragon!

The sky began to darken as thick gray clouds sprung into existence. The ground began to rumble beneath Merlin's feet, the earth responding to the trembling anger causing the warlock's body to shiver. His breathing was quick as his mind and heart raged in chaos. Lightning forked from up above and the trees groaned as their trunks rocked back and forth.

"Merlin!"

The warlock's eyes flared gold as he looked up at a worried Aithusa.

"Merlin, you must calm down!" she insisted. "You are causing an earthquake!"

"Those despicable creatures deserve to be wiped from the face of the earth!" Merlin shouted and above his head thunder clapped, rattling his eardrums.

Before Aithusa could resume her attempt to calm him, the lightning in the heavens ceased and the earth settled into its usual dormant state. A wave of magic sprung up from the clearing, familiar and warm. It wrapped around Merlin's troubled spirit as a mother would wrap her arms around a child. Instinctively, Merlin's eyes found the source of comfort in the form of a woman. She stood between the two dragons in the middle of the clearing, her beauty radiating with a quiet yet commanding grace. Her auburn hair was woven with the leaves and twigs of the forest, falling down to the middle of her back. Her eyes, the color of spring grass, sparkled with life and happiness. A long red gown adorned her elegant features and her stomach expanded in the glorious pronouncement of being with child. Merlin had seen her only once before: in the middle of the golden age of Albion during the eighth celebration of the Peace Festival; a festival Arthur had created to commemorate the uniting of the kingdoms.

"My Lady," Merlin greeted, sweeping into the deepest bow he reserved for paying his most sincere respect. Besides this woman, Arthur was the only other person that had been awarded such an honor.

"My Emrys," she rejoined with the warmest of smiles, walking between the two dragons who had their heads bowed. "You are looking well. But I see your spirit is troubled. The wounds you carry are deep as is the love you feel for this creature." She glanced over her shoulder at Altiore who was still bowed respectively towards her.

"Do you expect me to react any different, my Lady?" Merlin asked as he came out of his own bow. "Altiore has wrongly suffered at the hands of other magical creatures."

"As have you," replied the Triple Goddess, the Mother. Resting a delicate hand on his cheek, her green eyes softened further. "My poor warlock," she whispered.

Merlin gazed into her eyes, unable to look away. It was as if his sorrow was naked to her view, nothing hidden from her sight. Tears once again fell down his cheek and the goddess gently removed them with a brush of her fingers. Merlin swallowed painfully past the lump in his throat and found the strength to close his eyes, his form trembling as he once more experienced the pain, the loneliness, and the anger of being kept against his will at the hands of his enemies. A strong but loving pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and a gentle hand coaxed his head into the crook of the goddess's neck. She stroked his hair and kissed his temple and for a moment Merlin felt as if he was back in the arms of his own mother. Without meaning to, he wrapped his arms around the goddess and cried, allowing the emotions he'd pent up from his experience to release with his tears.

Time became irrelevant and for a while Merlin was lost in a sea of comfort and love. His magic swirled through his veins like a calm stream traveling through an enchanted wood. It soothed his spirit and comforted his soul, bringing with it a quiet but steady strength. Merlin came to himself as the goddess pulled away, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"You will overcome this, my Emrys," she comforted. "I have given you the strength to carry your burdens. Reflect on it when in need and the comfort you seek will come."

"Thank you," Merlin whispered, gazing upon her in gratitude.

She smiled before stepping back and turning to the dragons. "Altiore, Aithusa," she greeted, "Overall and the Light of the Sun, your dragonlord has named you well. The time has come for the dragons to once more brighten the world. Altiore, you and Aithusa will no longer be the last of your kind for your Dragonlord will soon sire a son, enabling the continuation of your race. I have come to give you permission to restore that which was cruelly destroyed by the former King Uther Pendragon."

The goddess turned back to a startled Merlin who was standing there, quite frankly, like an utter fool, his mouth hanging open and his mind whirling with disbelief. The goddess had just declared that he was going to be a father and asked the dragons to start repopulating the earth; could anyone blame him for staring at her like an idiot?!

The Mother chuckled, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Do not be so shocked, my Emrys. Destiny is finally moving onward and your life will one day draw to a close. Your legacy must continue on in order for the Old Religion to remain when you and the Once and Future King complete what you were born to do." Her gaze softened. "Do not trouble yourself concerning the goblins, Emrys. As a dragonlord you chose to show them mercy and gave them warning to never harm your kin again. They will remember your words and will heed them. Let your anger pass. Stay close to your friends and never stray from your King and all will be well."

Cradling Merlin's head between her gentle hands, she tilted it downward and kissed his brow. "Farewell for now, my Emrys," she whispered.

Merlin smiled at her before stepping back and bowing once more. "Farewell, my Lady."

A soft wind whipped through the trees and the goddess faded away leaving Merlin alone with the dragons in the clearing. The clouds now disbursed, the sun freely shone down upon them, giving light to a beautiful January morning. There was a moment in which the three creatures of the Old Religion stared at one another and then the woods were filled with joyful laughter as the news from the goddess sank into their minds.

"You are going to be a _father_ , Merlin!" Aithusa happily cried. "This is blessed news! Finally, after centuries, the dragonlords will be restored to the world!"

"As will the Old dragons!" Merlin beamed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Guess you two have a lot of work to do, hmmm?"

If dragons could blush, Altiore would have been bright red as he stammered, "Mind your own childbearing duties, Merlin."

The warlock laughed and for a while he couldn't stop. Gone was the anger, the sorrow, the heartache, replaced with an overwhelming joy that threatened to cause his heart to leap from his chest. The goddess had announced that he would soon sire a son! Well, he first had to marry Freya but still… he had more or less been assured that his marriage to Freya would be fruitful. He wanted to shout it out to the world. _He was going to be a father!_

But then the magnitude of such a revelation fell on his shoulders and the joy Merlin felt turned into panic.

Noticing this, a very happy Aithusa nudged him with her snout. "Merlin? What is it?"

"I've never been a father before, Aithusa," he muttered, terrified. "What if I fail?"

Aithusa let out a soft snort of laughter. "That's what's worrying you? Oh you silly warlock. You will be a _wonderful_ father."

Merlin shook his head. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because we know your heart, Merlin," Altiore said, smiling down at him. "Your children will revere you, I'm certain of it."

"But first you have to create them," Aithusa grinned.

"Aithusa!" Merlin cried, his face beginning to burn.

The dragoness laughed, large amounts of smoke escaping from her nostrils. "I find it rather amusing that you can speak so flippantly of others intimacy but not your own, young warlock!"

"Don't call me that!" Merlin huffed, folding his arms. "I'm _older_ than you, remember?"

Aithusa's eyes danced with amusement. "Sometimes I wonder how that's possible with how child-like you can be."

Merlin rolled his eyes as the dragons shared an amused grin.

"So, when will we get to meet your future wife?" Aithusa asked, deciding that she had enough of teasing him.

Merlin immediately sobered. "I can bring her by later today," he said with a quiet sorrow in his eyes. "Professor McGonagall's funeral is this afternoon so we'll already be out on the grounds. We can come here after that."

"Why can't we just meet her at the funeral?" asked Altiore.

"I don't think you should attend. It isn't wise to expose the two of you completely to the press just yet," Merlin explained. "We have a lot to share with them and the mere mention that ancient dragons still freely roam the earth is sure to cause enough of a field day in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I'm afraid they'll probably make the mistake of thinking they can command you and I'd rather talk them out of it than see them try anything."

Aithusa snorted. "Those foolish wizards could not control or regulate us if they tried. We are not the same as our weaker-minded brethren."

Merlin smiled in amusement. "That you happen to be the mother of since you mated with the wyverns, creating them."

Aithusa blew smoke towards him and huffed, "I was following the instructions of the Old Religion, Merlin. That does not mean that I necessarily enjoyed it."

Merlin chuckled. "Indeed. Anyway, the point is I'd rather they just knew you existed than try to capture and control you in some way. Who knows, there might be some foolish idiot who thinks he can detain and study you like lab rats."

"I'd like to see him try," Aithusa growled.

Merlin frowned. He hated to bring it up again but it needed to be said. "Aithusa, don't think for a second that you're invincible. The goblins managed to find a way to capture Altiore and keep him hidden from the world for two hundred years." His expression grew grim as he softly finished, "There are ways to keep a creature of the Old Religion bound. We would do well not to relax and allow our pride to blind us."

"I am sorry, Merlin," she humbly muttered, "you are right."

Merlin stroked her cheek in forgiveness. "I should be getting back. The others are bound to be up by now and the students have returned to the castle. The knights might not know where to sit for breakfast now that the house tables are going to be full. Not to mention I fear my earlier magical outburst may have caused a stir."

"Don't worry," Aithusa soothed, "the goddess prevented those at the castle from experiencing any of it."

"Another thing I need to thank her for," Merlin muttered more to himself than the dragons, "the last thing I need is everyone wondering why my magic flew off the handle again."

"It is good to share your weaknesses with others, Merlin," Altiore counseled. "Keeping it to yourself will only drive you to madness."

"And tell others besides Arthur," Aithusa added. "The poor man may need to get advice himself in order to help you. He can't do that if you only confide in him."

Merlin sighed. "I know and I will but… give me time."

Aithusa nodded in understanding. "Just don't wait too long, young warlock."

Merlin scowled at her but it only caused her grin to grow. Cheeky _younger_ dragon!

"You will visit us later with Freya?" Altiore questioned, interrupting his silent insults towards Aithusa.

"I will," the warlock promised. "Don't scare the centaurs while I'm gone, alright?"

Aithusa grinned. "We wouldn't dream of it."

Merlin shook his head, remembering the last time the poor herd had stumbled upon her. It was during one of his years at Hogwarts. The centaurs had thought she was a threat to the forest and tried to chase her from the premises. They had been very surprised when she spoke, showing her intelligence and offense to them repeatedly calling her a 'dumb magical beast'. After that they learned that if there was a dragon in the woods, it was not meant to be insulted.

Merlin managed to reach the Hogwarts steps when the sun was shining around what he deemed to be eight in the morning. Classes would be starting at nine which meant that most of the students were probably already in the Great Hall eating breakfast. Merlin bit his lip. The knights would probably be up by now trying to do the same thing as the students but Arthur was sure to still be asleep; the prat could sleep until noon if Merlin didn't wake him up. Should he check on Arthur or find the knights first? Merlin opted for the latter; better to find those who were already roaming than go to a snoring king in a dormant place.

Pushing the doors open, Merlin walked into the castle to find students heading towards the Great Hall just as he thought. Every pair of eyes in the Entrance Hall stared at him and for a second Merlin considered turning invisible. Instead he opted for the powerful Court Sorcerer he was once known to be and squared his shoulders, striding into the Hall with confidence.

Ignoring the gasps, whispers, and stares, Merlin's eyes roamed the vast expanse until they alighted on the men he'd been searching for. All five knights were seated at the Gryffindor table, the students of the house giving them a wide berth with large, uncertain eyes. Gwaine, his mouth full to the brim with sausages, spotted Merlin first.

"Mu-fin!" he cried, waving his arm enthusiastically.

Despite himself, Merlin couldn't help but chuckle as he strode over to the table. "Well, I see the five of you still have a knack for finding the food."

They all laughed.

"Though this isn't as good as _your_ cooking, Merlin," Elyan smiled.

"Yeah," Gwaine agreed, "maybe you can teach the cooks a thing or two. This bacon is way too dry!"

Merlin snorted at the thought of the mighty Emrys giving a cooking lesson to the Hogwarts house elves. "I think you're just biased, Gwaine."

"So, what's on the agenda for today, Merlin?" asked Lancelot.

"And why do you look like you've been trundling through the snow?" added Percival.

Before Merlin could respond there was a fierce meow at his feet followed by a loud cry. _"Ah-ha!_ Well done, my sweet, you found the culprit!"

Merlin looked down to see Mrs. Norris glaring angrily up at him before he turned to find Argus Filch, the Hogwarts Caretaker, striding toward him with a very red nose and an angry glint in his eyes.

"Uh-oh," Merlin muttered finally noticing the trail of water his boots had tracked in from all the melted snow.

"You!" Filch cried, pointing a shaking finger at Merlin's chest. "Who do you think you are, storming into the castle and leaving such a mess in your wake? Do you know who has to clean that up? No consideration, I tell you, _none!_ Well, I won't have it! It took me all holiday to restore this castle and I will not have it ruined by some young upstart who believes he can enter the school whenever he wishes!" He looked Merlin up and down, finally realizing that he was too old to be a student but apparently younger than himself. "Who are you anyway?"

They'd drawn the attention of many of the students, as was per usual when it came to Filch reprimanding someone. Oddly amused and deciding it was best just to be honest, Merlin gave Filch his biggest idiotic grin and held out a hand.

"I'm Merlin," he introduced.

Filch didn't buy it for a second. "Oh yes, very _funny!"_ he huffed, his scowl deepening on his wizened face. "You think you're clever do you? Well, I know exactly what you are, sir. A troublemaker if I ever saw one! _Merlin indeed!"_

"Is there a problem here?" Leon asked, he and the other knights getting up at the same time.

Many years ago, when Merlin was still bullied, the knights had done what they were doing now: trying to defend him. While Merlin was grateful for their support, he could handle this little situation himself.

"Guys, its fine," he assured.

And, _as per usual,_ they ignored him.

"Merlin may have a knack for getting into trouble but he didn't mean to insult you, sir," said Elyan.

"Who are _you_ lot?" Filch demanded. "His accomplices? You're all too old to be in school and you're not part of the staff. That leaves me to believe you're loitering and that gives me all rights to kick you out of the castle!"

Merlin couldn't help it. He busted up laughing. The knights soon joined in. It was quite ludicrous after all, telling the knights of Camelot and Merlin, the kingdom's Court Sorcerer, to leave the castle they defended.

"Our apologies," Lancelot muttered, "We do not mean to laugh."

"Oh but we _do!_ " Gwaine cut in, causing them to laugh even harder than before.

Filch looked like he'd just swallowed one of Gaius's potions. He started shaking with suppressed rage and just when he was about to blow up, Professor Sprout came to the rescue – not that Merlin and the knights really needed her to.

"What is going on here?" she demanded.

"These men have infiltrated the castle and are disturbing the peace, ma'am," Filch declared, grateful that he finally had some backup. "I was just about to kick them out for loitering."

"Merlin!" Professor Sprout cried in surprise. "I thought all of you were in America. When did you get back?"

"Late last night," Merlin answered, trying and failing to contain his grin over Filch's shocked face. "I see the castle has been well looked after in our absence. Thanks for that, Mr. Filch. I apologize for tracking water inside. Here, let me remedy that."

With a mere flash of gold from his eyes the water disappeared leaving the floor completely dry. Several students gasped and Filch's mouth dropped open as he spluttered, "Merlin's beard!"

Gwaine burst into laughter, the other knights joining him as Merlin just shook his head and sighed. "Again with the beard," he grumbled. Turning to Professor Sprout he decided to ignore the rather flummoxed caretaker. "Has the Ministry hired a new Headmaster or Headmistress yet?"

"They have," she announced. "It's Professor Flitwick but he's experiencing the same problem as Professor McGonagall when you first showed up months ago. He can't get into the Headmaster's office at all."

Merlin grinned. "I would imagine so since Arthur hasn't approved him to the position yet. I'm glad they picked Flitwick; it makes things so much easier for us…"

Professor Sprout's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What?"

Noticing that hundreds of ears were now inclined toward their conversation, Merlin decided to opt for a more private setting. "Could you have Professor Flitwick meet me at nine o'clock in front of the Headmaster's office?"

"Of course," she said, "but–"

"Too many ears," Merlin muttered to her.

"Oh," she said, catching on, "right. Of course – sorry."

Merlin smiled at her. "No harm done. Now, I have a prat to wake. Are you guys done eating?"

"Are you kidding?" Gwaine cried, "These plates just keep re-filling themselves! I'm not leaving until I have to be rolled out the door!"

Marching back to the table, the knight flipped his hair out of his face and returned to his breakfast. From the color of the liquid in his cup, Merlin suspected that he'd whispered to the floor for the house elves to give him firewhiskey. Chuckling while shaking his head, he looked to the others.

"What about the rest of you?"

"We're still hungry," Leon admitted. "We haven't seen the girls this morning, however."

As if they knew they were being talked about, Gwen, Morgana, and Freya appeared in the doorway to the Great Hall. Each wore casual muggle clothes sporting their own style, Morgana the most daring in a bright purple shirt and a pair of black leather pants with high heels and Freya in the most conservative in a long red sweater with tan leggings. Gwen wore a thick patterned cardigan over a yellow blouse and blue jeans. All of them were beautiful in their own right but Merlin naturally thought Freya was the loveliest. In a trance he approached his wife to be and kissed her full on the mouth in greeting, not even caring he was being watched by mostly everyone in the hall.

"Well, good morning to you too," she laughed, smiling up at him.

"What has you in such a good mood this morning, Merlin?" Gwen asked after she and Morgana had shared a pleased smile.

Merlin, remembering the words of the Triple Goddess, shrugged and said, "Oh, I just received some good news. I'll tell you about it later. Right now I have to find Arthur before he wakes up on his own. He's even prattier than usual when that happens."

The girls laughed, fully agreeing with him.

"You'll find he's still asleep," Gwen assured.

Merlin smiled before kissing Freya one more time. "I'll be back soon," he promised.

"'Kay," she muttered, her smile warming his heart.

He then left the Hall with a spring in his step. Reaching Arthur's secret chambers ten minutes later, he stepped through the painting and tiptoed over to the closed curtains. Arthur's loud snores were rudely interrupted as the curtain was flung back.

"Rise and shine!" Merlin shouted.

" _Merlin!"_ the king complained, rolling over on his side, his back facing the warlock.

"Should I have said 'let's have you, lazy daisy' instead?" he teased. Arthur flipped over, glaring at him. "Right, still offended by that one, are you?"

" _Very_ ," Arthur snapped. "What time is it?"

"Oh, around 8:30, I imagine," Merlin mused, walking over the Arthur's dresser and pulling out clothes for the king. While the others had a stash of modern wear, Arthur's ancient clothes were higher in abundance. The king had also expressed his preference for them to jeans so Merlin ignored the modern things and pulled out a pair of breeches, a soft brown tunic, and a leather vest. He made sure to grab the metal cuffs Arthur liked to wear when in more casual clothes as he draped all the articles over the partition. At this point the king had stumbled out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers as he went.

Merlin smirked. "Did you have a fun night, sire?"

Arthur responded by throwing a pillow at him. "Shut up, Merlin," he muttered though he was grinning. "Just wait until _you're_ married. Then I can get you back for all the jibes you've been giving me for years."

"Yes, I'm sure you're eager to extract your revenge," Merlin muttered unconcernedly as he tried to keep his reddening cheeks from the sight of the king.

Arthur's chuckle made it clear he'd seen them anyway. The king disappeared behind the partition and quickly dressed, eager to satisfy his grumbling stomach. While Arthur fixed his hair and brushed his teeth – a modern routine added to the ancient one – Merlin went about the room straightening up.

He flicked his fingers and the sheets sprung off the bed, soaring over to the hamper in the corner, the comforter remaining suspended in the air as the warlock went about applying the new sheets to the mattress by hand. After fluffing the pillows, the comforter sank back down over the now perfectly spread sheets, tucking itself in at the bottom and on the sides just the way Arthur liked it. Pleased with his work, Merlin nodded to himself before then proceeding to pick up the trailing pile of clothes both belonging to Arthur and Guinevere from the bed to the painting-door. Merlin smirked to himself. Yes, it appeared that Arthur had had a _very_ enjoyable night indeed. Chuckling, he dumped the laundry in the same basket he had the sheets and made a mental note to come back at some point to clean them.

"What's so funny, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur demanded, coming out of the bathroom ready for the day.

"Oh, nothing," Merlin grinned, still standing by the laundry basket.

Arthur, noticing something frilly and pink amidst the laundry, suddenly blushed. Trying to save his dignity, he picked up the nearest object – a spoon this time – and marched over to his Court Sorcerer. "Not a _word_ , Merlin," he threatened, holding out the utensil, his eyes flashing menacingly.

Merlin quirked an amused eyebrow. "Threatening me with spoons again, Arthur?"

"Yes, and I'm sure you remember the welt on your hand from last time," the king muttered, eyes narrowed and cheeks as red as an apple.

Merlin chuckled. "Arthur, please, there's no need to be so embarrassed. If you recall, I was still your manservant when you and Gwen got married the first time. I picked up after the two of you for years before Liam took the job. I've seen it all."

"Yes, but modern day things weren't invented back then!" Arthur complained. "And some things are meant to be _private!_ I'd rather you _not_ see Guinevere's lingerie!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Arthur, it's not like I haven't seen the stuff before. Not Gwen's!" he added hurriedly from the disgusted and angry look on Arthur's face. "Just the thing in general! Look, if you don't want me to see it, then make sure it's gone before I enter the room. Gwen always rises before you do. Talk to her about it. Besides, if I ever show up when she's still here, you know I always knock. She can put it away and then let me in."

Now he was blushing too. This conversation had gone from teasing to awkward in two seconds. Merlin hadn't even thought of treating the lingerie any differently than the rest of the clothes on the floor until Arthur had said something. Now that he thought about it, it was a very private thing and Arthur and Gwen had a right to keep it from him. There were some things about Arthur's life that Merlin was perfectly fine not knowing and his night life with Gwen was definitely one of them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered sincerely.

Arthur sighed. "It's not your fault. We were careless. I'll talk to Guinevere about it. Just… don't mention this to anyone. I'm sure Guinevere would have cleaned things up if she'd been thinking about it this morning. She'll be embarrassed enough knowing you were the one who found it."

"I'm not going to advertise this, Arthur," Merlin cried, appalled by the very idea. "I'm not insensitive to you and Gwen's privacy."

"Thank you," Arthur muttered, his cheeks still on fire.

Merlin coughed. "So, shall we go? We actually need to meet up with Flitwick in a few minutes."

"Before breakfast?" Arthur complained as he followed Merlin out of his room, just as grateful as the warlock to change the conversation topic.

Merlin snickered. "Unfortunately. It's your own fault. If you'd woken up the same time Gwen did, you wouldn't have to wait."

Arthur scowled. "It's not her job to wake me up, Merlin."

Merlin laughed. "Wow, the great King Arthur, needing someone else to wake him every day. Why don't you just set an alarm clock?"

"Because, you idiot, the magic here makes it so technology is useless!"

"Hmmm, perhaps we can work around that," Merlin mused as the two wandered down the hall towards the Headmaster's office. "I can do some experimenting in my free time."

"Then until that happens, I'll expect _you_ to do the waking," Arthur grumbled, surly because he had to wait to eat no doubt.

Merlin smiled anyway. "I'd be happy to, Arthur. You know it always terrified Liam to wake you. Apparently I'm the only one who was brave enough to do so. You're as bad as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not that bad." Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I may or may not have caused the poor sod to cry a few times but what do you expect? He wasn't as brave as you were. Poking and shaking me awake when I'm in bed irritates me."

"And flinging open the blinds, shouting loudly, and forcibly removing you from the mattress doesn't?" Merlin grinned.

"Shut up, Merlin."

The two reached the Headmaster's office around the same time as Flitwick. The small man wandered toward them with a subdued expression on his wizened face.

"Ah, Merlin and King Arthur," he greeted in his light tenor voice, his fluffy tuffs of hair sticking out of a rather pointed hat, "welcome back. Professor Sprout told me to meet you here."

"Hello Professor," Merlin greeted with a polite smile, sensing the old man's sorrow. Despite the good news he'd received this morning, this day was still going to be a sad one. Professor McGonagall was sorely missed and the gloom of her unfortunate passing was prominent throughout the castle. Professor Flitwick seemed particularly disheartened; McGonagall had been one of his dearest friends and colleagues.

"Pomona informed me that you were having trouble getting into your office," Merlin continued, remembering why they were here.

"Yes," Flitwick muttered. "I've tried every charm I can think of but the gargoyle won't let me in."

Merlin nodded, unsurprised, before turning to the stone figure. "Well, at least you're still doing your job, Hogan."

The gargoyle's face came to life, scrunching up in a scowl as he eyed the warlock. "Well what do you expect me to do? Fight against your magical laws over the castle?" He turned his stony gaze to Flitwick. "And I'll have you know, I don't appreciate being poked and prodded by spells when I already told you that I can't let you in! The actual kicks didn't help matters but I hope I at least bruised your foot from the abuse."

Flitwick appeared apologetic. "Sorry... I was… rather frustrated earlier," the wizard confessed while rubbing his foot against the floor.

Merlin began to grin in amusement. "Don't worry, Filius, Hogan's always been surly."

"A bit like you then, huh, Merlin?" Arthur teased.

Merlin rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. "Anyway, first we'd like to congratulate you on becoming Headmaster, Filius. You were our first choice, actually."

"I was?" Flitwick said in surprise, his bushy eyebrows nearly disappearing under the brim of his hat.

Arthur nodded. "Indeed you were. Actually, if the Ministry had picked anyone else, they'd have to give the position to you anyway. I'm very particular on who is watching over my castle and, though I don't know you very well, Merlin trusts you and that's all the evidence I need that you are the best choice. So," he said, turning to Merlin, "do I basically say something similar to what I did before?"

Merlin nodded. "Pretty much. You just have to make sure the magic knows that you agree to Flitwick being Headmaster, giving him the rights to command the castle under your direction."

"Seems easy enough," Arthur mused.

Clearing his throat, he stood tall and the mantle of the Once and Future King descended upon him, rising from within and shining through his countenance. The doubts of the reincarnated twenty four year old fell away, being replaced by the man who made the legend: a king whose courage, strength, and character forged the greatest kingdom the world had ever known. Merlin's eyes brimmed with pride; these were the moments he loved the most for they were when Arthur shouldered his destiny.

Arthur took a deep breath and said in his most authoritative voice, "I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, hereby give this wizard, Filius Flitwick, charge of maintaining and protecting this castle and all who dwell therein according to the standards and laws of the magic instilled upon the establishment by my servant, Merlin Emrys, and by any further laws I deem necessary in future. I authorize Professor Flitwick with the stewardship of Headmaster and all the privileges and responsibilities that come with the position until I release him from his service and appoint a new Head in his place."

A ripple of magic burst from Arthur's form in all directions, coursing through the castle and leaving every soul with a chilled awe as it spread into the very framework of the vast expanse. Merlin's magic pulsed happily through his veins, his eyes momentarily sparking in recognition of his king's decree. Flitwick let out a soft gasp and Hogan the Gargoyle happily grinned as the magical responsibility fell over the new headmaster.

"Wow," Flitwick whispered, staring up at both Merlin and Arthur in awe.

Merlin's smile was wide as he stated, "You are now under the service of the Once and Future King as the Headmaster of his castle. While you have been given the authority to make decisions for the school as you see fit, Arthur has the right to remove you from this position should he feel your work is unsatisfactory."

"No need to worry though," Arthur said, smiling at the professor, "I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Flitwick said as he bowed to him. "I accept the responsibility and look forward to working with you in the days ahead."

Arthur nodded but then became serious. "Professor, I want it understood that I do not plan to be the Headmaster myself. That is a position I have now delegated to you. I expect you to run this school honorably and give me periodic reports, alerting me should any suspicious or concerning activity come to light."

"In other words, let us know if there are problems and run the school the way you like. If we have a problem with it, we'll let you know," Merlin summarized, smiling amusedly at his king.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's basically it."

Merlin turned to Hogan and folded his arms. "So, are you going to let Filius pass, Hogan, or do you need Arthur to threaten you as his younger self did a couple months ago?"

Hogan frowned before jumping aside. "I'd rather not be turned to dust today, thanks," he muttered.

Merlin patted his head playfully before inviting Flitwick towards the stairs, "There you are, Headmaster Flitwick."

"Thank you," the wizard said, grinning.

Merlin instructed him how to set his passwords before king and warlock left him to get settled in, both promising to be at the funeral later that afternoon. As the two made their way down the various staircases towards the Great Hall, Arthur tried – again – to get Merlin to tell him what happened between him and his father.

"Come on," Arthur urged, "you can't keep it hidden from me, Merlin."

"There's not that much to say," Merlin muttered, shifting slightly.

Arthur scoffed. "You came out of that room with a dazed look in your eyes and a grin on your face. My father was staring after you with a look of pride that he's never shown to anyone but me. Now, tell me, what happened between you two?"

Merlin sighed. He didn't think it was all that important. "We just talked things out," he hedged. "You know, you're going to miss breakfast if we don't hurry."

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm, pulling him to a stop. "Merlin," he said, his voice surprisingly soft, "please, it's important to me to know what exactly happened. I know that you two seem to have resolved things but I need to know so I can silence the doubts I have. My father has always shunned magic and yet he appears to have welcomed you into the family as if you were his surrogate son. I need to know that this change he's undergone is not a hoax. Please, can you tell me what happened on New Year's Day?"

Merlin hated when Arthur looked at him like this; such hopeful eyes. This tactic worked like a charm for it made the warlock feel guilty. Ever since they promised to never keep secrets from each other, whenever Merlin began to hide things, Arthur would recognize his attempts at deception and look at him the way he was now: the hope that he would tell him the truth, the silent vulnerability that tugged at the warlock's heartstrings that reminded him of Arthur's capability to doubt, and the longing that Merlin would confide in him. It caused the warlock to throw his hands up in frustration.

"Alright!" he growled unhappily, "I'll tell you! But it's not that big of a deal, _really."_

"I'll be the judge of that," Arthur stated, walking towards an empty classroom.

Merlin followed him inside, sighing heavily. "You know, you really _should_ eat breakfast. If you don't, you're going to turn into a cranky prat - which is a lot worse than a regular one."

Arthur scowled. "I'll just have one of the house elves bring me breakfast here. That way you can talk and I can eat."

Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur did just that, stating that he needed assistance from the kitchens by shouting the words to thin air. An elf appeared immediately, took his order, and bowed before disappearing with a crack. Not even a full minute passed before the elf had returned with a tray loaded down with all of Arthur's favorites – sausages being the most prominent – and set it down in front of the king.

"Thank you," Arthur told the elf who bowed low before vanishing with another crack and an excited squeak. Arthur happily dug into his food before pointing his fork threateningly at Merlin. "Alright, spill," he commanded.

Frowning, the warlock walked over, pulled up a seat, and stole one of Arthur's sausages – "Merlin! Get your own!" – before beginning with the moment he entered Uther's room to the time he left.

"It was mostly just hearing about everything I've done for your royal pratness since the moment we met," Merlin mused, smiling slightly. "After that we talked about his cancer and his concern for you. He knows you never wanted to take over the company and, with a new understanding of our shared destiny, he's willing to stop pestering you about it." Merlin became quiet, becoming lost in the memory of their conversation.

Arthur prompted him. "Care to share the rest, Merlin?"

"Oh, right – sorry," Merlin grinned apologetically. "Well, it's just… he asked me if my magic could cure his cancer."

Arthur stilled, his appetite all but forgotten. After a pregnant pause, he leaned forward. "Can it?" he asked hesitantly, trying and failing to keep the hope from his voice.

Merlin's entire being deflated. "Did I ever tell you that I have a degree in every medical field the world currently has to offer?"

"You mentioned it," Arthur nodded.

"When cancer first crept up, I, like everyone, had no idea what it was nor could I cure it with magic. To this day I have tried every spell I can think of – heck, I've even invented some! – but nothing I do manages to work. I can alleviate the pain but I can't cure the disease. I may have been around for a long time but even I don't know everything. There are some things in this world that will always be outside of our control and I believe that finding cures for certain illnesses is one of them. Who knows, maybe one day someone will discover how to rid the disease from the human body but I fear I might not be around to learn it now that I've become mortal. I'm so sorry, Arthur. I wanted to heal him, I really did. It breaks my heart, having to disappoint you. You know I hate when I do. It is one of the worst tortures I have to endure, knowing that I've failed you in a request. But there really is nothing I can do for him. I eased his pain but your father cannot escape this fate. I'm sorry."

Merlin hung his head, his eyes slightly stinging. He was afraid to look up for he believed he'd see Arthur's disappointment – something that truly broke his heart. He'd only seen it directed to him a handful of times since the king learned who he truly was and every time Merlin hated himself for causing such an emotion to overwhelm his liege. He never wanted Arthur to see him as a failure.

A comforting hand rested on his shoulder and a light pressure from the fingers squeezed gently into his skin. "Merlin, please look at me."

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat, Merlin fearfully did as was bidden by his master and king. What he found eased his troubled heart. Arthur didn't hold a trace of disappointment. Instead, his blue eyes were shining with gratitude.

"Thank you for telling me what happened between you two and thank you for easing my father's pain," Arthur said with a kind, gentle smile. "I'm sure he appreciated what you could do for him."

Sweet, blessed relief coursed through the warlock and he found his shoulders lift as a heavy weight was removed from them. "He did," he said, his voice full of emotion.

"I assume he wasn't angry when you told him you couldn't heal him?" Arthur asked carefully but curiously.

Merlin shook his head. "No, he just seemed resigned. He asked me to take care of you when he was gone and then he made me a knight. After that we didn't have anything else to say."

"Wow that's – wait – _WHAT?!_ My father _knighted you?!"_

Merlin had to laugh. "Oh don't look so surprised, Arthur. You wanted to knight me too when you learned the truth."

"But you wouldn't let me!" Arthur complained. "So why did you let him?"

Merlin could hear the hurt and slight jealousy in Arthur's tone. Grinning, he played it up a bit, "Well, Uther was a lot more _respectful_ towards me after he learned who I was and all I've done for you and Camelot" – his grin transformed to a grimace as he continued - "that and he kind of bullied me into conjuring a sword, kneeling at his bedside, and knighting me right there in his bedroom."

Arthur raised an amused brow. "He _bullied_ you?"

Merlin scowled. "He made me feel guilty when I refused him – said it was the only thing he could do to show his gratitude for all the mistakes he'd made and to not deprive him of the one noble thing he was still capable of doing. So yes, Arthur, he bullied me by _guilt-tripping_ me into allowing him to bestow a title."

Arthur's grin was wide as he poked Merlin in the chest. "You are such a softy, Merlin," he teased. "I only wish I could have figured out earlier that death requests are your weakness. I would have tried it then."

Merlin's scowl was deep as he snapped, "Don't even _joke_ about that Arthur!"

The king seemed to have realized he'd hit a nerve – of course he had! The prat had died in his arms for goodness sake! – Arthur tried to make up for it.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to be flippant about it."

The warlock sighed. "I know. I didn't mean to get so defensive."

An awkward moment passed between the two before Arthur tried to lighten the mood. "So, how does it feel to be a knight of Camelot? You should feel honored; you're the first commoner in history to be bestowed a knighthood by my father. I never thought I'd see the day."

Merlin's grin was wide. "Well, what can I say, I'm special."

Arthur lightly scoffed, shaking his head as his smile grew. "Are you ever going to change?"

"No, you'd get bored."

The two shared identical grins as they repeated words they'd uttered during a time when their lives were so much simpler. But they did not long to go back to past; what they had now, after years of friendship, was a precious treasure neither was willing to give up.

Now finished with his breakfast, Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Come on," he said while heading for the exit, "we should see what we can do to help with the funeral preparations."

Merlin stood. "Arthur?"

The king turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"Thank you," Merlin said sincerely, "for not hating me because I couldn't cure your father again."

Arthur's gaze softened as he walked back over and rested his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Any time, _Sir_ Merlin," he grinned, his eyes dancing. "Any time."

Merlin playfully shoved him away. Arthur knew how much he hated titles! "You're a right prat, you know that?"

Arthur laughed. "And even if you're now a knight you'll always be an idiot."

"Better to be an idiot than a supercilious clotpole."

"You know, Sir Idiot has a nice ring to it," Arthur mused, grinning as Merlin followed him out of the room, the next insult already leaping off his tongue, the king's response merely being laughter.

Merlin inwardly smiled. All was as it should be.

* * *

 **Well, there you go! Now you basically know what happened between Uther and Merlin without going into great detail. (Shout out of thanks to pezzz for the suggested ideas) And before anyone freaks out about Aithusa and Altiore hooking up to make dragon babies, when you have to repopulate a species, you do what you have to do. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the bromance! Things are going to be sad next time with the funeral and all but don't worry, more laughs and excitement will soon follow. Leave a review! I do love them so!**


	31. Chapter 31

**I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter. :D This one is sad but I thought it necessary. I did kill off a major character, after all, and I feel that in order to heal some of your wounds (and not have you throw virtual daggers at me) McGonagall's funeral deserved to actually be written. I hope I did it justice! Oh, and I gave it to you in Harry's POV! *Gasp!* I know he's not the star in this story but I thought he deserved a little bit of love. He's been such a good sport, taking the sidelines and letting Merlin and Arthur have the spotlight.**

 **Disclaimer: The usual necessary stuff like, I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter, etc.**

* * *

31: Goodbye Professor

Harry apparated into the village of Hogsmeade, his feet planting themselves just a few paces from the local but fairly unpopular inn, the Hogs Head. He wasn't the only one apparating around the village either; many witches and wizards could be seen making their way towards the school with solemn expressions on their worn features. They came from all over and Harry's heavy heart lightened a little from seeing how many people cared for his former professor. He scanned the crowd for any sign of Ron and Hermione but either they hadn't arrived yet or they were already up at the castle. He was a tad late, getting caught up with the search for Hermione's parents in Australia; he'd used one of Hermione's unofficial portkeys to get back only a few hours ago. The search group hadn't found Mr. and Mrs. Granger yet but they'd only been at it for a few days. Harry would have asked Merlin and the others for help but the warlock was still dealing with his own demons; Harry didn't want to burden him with anything else.

The familiar towers and turrets of Hogwarts castle came into view and Harry frowned when he didn't see a gathering of witches and wizards outside on the grounds but the frown soon turned to a happy smile at the sight of a familiar redhead making her way towards him in the snow.

Ginny was just as pretty as she had always been, her long hair trailing behind her as she ran up to and embraced Harry in a fervent hug.

"Hi," she greeted breathlessly, her cheeks tinged pink.

"Hi," he answered, smiling stupidly. "So, uh, I guess they decided to have the funeral inside?"

"Probably because it's too bloody cold out here," someone said behind them.

Harry whipped around the see Fred and George standing there in a pair of black dragonhide suits, their faces mirroring each other in quiet mourning.

"Good to see you two have finally made up," George said, winking at the couple.

"'Bout time too," Fred grinned, "I was afraid Ginny was going to die an old maid from how long you put her off, Harry."

Harry's face was becoming as red as his girlfriend's hair. "Yeah, well, I had a dark lord to kill before I could do anything else, guys."

"Yeah, yeah," George replied, waving his hand dismissively, "the old 'Voldy' excuse."

"I have dark wizards to defeat–"

"I must fulfill my destiny–"

"My duty as the Chosen One must come before all else!"

"Oh, you two!" Ginny shook her head in exasperation as the twins laughed. Pulling Harry along, she ignored their taunts and dragged him up the castle steps.

"I knew they were going to tease us," Harry sighed as he silently prayed his cheeks would stop burning before anyone else could notice.

"What did you expect? They're Fred and George after all."

Harry smiled resignedly, silently agreeing with her; those two would never pass a chance to tease someone.

The funeral turned out taking place in the Great Hall, the house tables having been pushed aside for countless rows of golden chairs; the same ones that had been used at Dumbledore's funeral. Black drapes mingled with the gold and red belonging to Gryffindor, the two alternating along the walls between windows. The ever present enchanted candles floated above their heads to provide light, the wax magically disappearing before they could scald the crowd beneath them. Most faces Harry didn't recognize as he and Ginny made their way down the large middle aisle separating the rows of chairs but he did notice that many of them were in their younger years; students that had recently graduated, he suspected, like himself.

"There you two are!" came a rather exasperated voice and Harry was already grinning as Hermione flung her arms around him in greeting. "I was beginning to worry you'd gotten lost in Australian pub, Harry."

"Nice to see you too, Hermione," he greeted as he nodded to Ron who stood behind his flustered girlfriend. "How's the search going for you two?"

Ron shrugged. "We've hit several places but nothing concrete yet."

Hermione looked a little disheartened so Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Hermione, we'll find them."

"Yeah," she muttered before brushing aside her worries and pointing to a row fairly close to the front. "The Order gets to sit up there. We saved you a couple seats."

"Even though the students are _supposed_ to sit with their houses a little further back, mum figured it would be okay for you to sit with us, Ginny," Ron explained as the four of them made their way towards the rows Hermione had indicated.

"I'm as much a member of the Order as the three of you," Ginny replied fiercely. "I didn't even see the point in going back to school except mum made me."

"You're darn right I did!" Mrs. Weasley said, overhearing her daughter's complaint. "These three may have skipped out on finishing school but that doesn't mean that you too have to throw your education away. Hello, Harry dear, how are you?"

"Fine, Mrs. Weasley," he grinned. She glared at him and Harry coughed, "I mean, Molly."

It was the weirdest thing, calling her by her first name, but she had insisted.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up to find Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine striding towards him, the two knights grinning widely at the sight of their friend. Both had surprisingly ditched their ancient armor for modern day muggle suits - probably in favor of the occasion. If it hadn't been for their faces, Harry was sure he wouldn't have recognized them as the legends they were.

"Lancelot, Gwaine, how are you?"

"Fairly well," Lancelot replied, shaking his hand. "We were wondering if we'd see you here."

"Hermione and Ron were telling us that you might have gotten lost in Australia," Gwaine said with a grin. "Now they have some great ale in that country!"

Though he rolled his eyes, Lancelot was amused. "They're searching for Hermione's parents, Gwaine. They don't have time to visit the pubs."

"Nonsense," Gwaine countered, "some of the best ways to track people down is by visiting pubs. You get loads of information from drunken fools."

"Yes, which is why it's a wonder that you never spilled Camelot's secrets from your frequent travels to such establishments," said someone behind them.

Gwaine turned around giving Harry a full view of a modernly dressed King Arthur. He also wore a black suit, red tie, and red pocket square. His black shoes were polished with such flourish that Harry could see a perfect mirror of his reflection. It was quite an odd sight, seeing the ancient king in such attire, but he wore it well, his nobility noticeable even without a crown on his head.

"Princess, nice of you to join us," Gwaine greeted, eyeing the man up and down. "My, my, my, Merlin really _does_ have magic to get your shoes that shiny."

"Thanks Gwaine, I'll take that as high praise."

If it hadn't been for the familiar voice Harry never would have recognized the infamous warlock. Unlike his peers who were wearing muggle clothes, Merlin was dressed in a wizard's robe that was drawing a lot of attention. Most of the material was as black as midnight but the swirling patterns of embroidery were what really caught one's eye. The hems were a repeated pattern that Harry recognized as the Triskelion, the unique mark running along the ends of the fabric between two stripes of white. The back of the warlock's robe was decorated with further Celtic styled patterns that swirled and twirled into the shape of a dragon before continuing up the hood, looping around intricately to a single point that rested in the center over Merlin's forehead. Harry couldn't help but think 'otherworldly' as he stared at the ancient wizard. His quiet power coupled with his mysterious appearance left the impression of curiosity, awe, and caution.

Despite this, Merlin's eyes were warm as he smiled at him. "It's nice to see you, Harry. How have you been?"

Harry was fairly surprised. The last time he'd seen Merlin, he'd been near the breaking point but now there was only a trace of unease in his countenance. It was a nice change. Merlin was a hero to him, after all.

"I've been well, what with Auror training and searching for Hermione's parents," he answered.

"And dating," Merlin added as he looked at Ginny and Harry's intertwined fingers, his grin causing his eyes to twinkle in a way similar to that of Dumbledore's.

Blushing, Harry and Ginny shared a glance. "Er, yeah, that too," the former muttered.

Gwaine laughed, slapping Harry on the back. "Good for you, mate!"

"Is there anything we can do to help with your search?" Arthur asked, addressing Hermione specifically.

Her bushy hair flew back and forth as she shook her head. "No, we can manage. We found a trail that looks really promising but we had to stop in order to come here. My parents seem to have picked up a love of traveling the country; they're proving to have gone all over the place since moving there."

"Well, I can't blame them," Merlin answered with a smile. "Australia is very beautiful."

"You've been there?" Arthur asked.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Arthur, I've been around for centuries. A man can travel the entire world in that length of time and I saw no reason not to do so. Mind you, I never stayed long term in the countries I visited."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

Merlin shrugged. "I had to keep close to the lake of Avalon. I always thought that Arthur would return from there and I didn't need an ancient prat wandering the streets of modern England without a clue as to where or even when he was."

There was a round of chuckles as Gwaine sighed, "Ahhh, yes, I can see the headlines now: 'Strange Man Claiming to be King Arthur attempts to 'Kill' Dormant Car in Self Defense!"

The laughter increased at the ludicrous thought of the wary king jabbing an unmoving vehicle with Excalibur.

"We can all be thankful that didn't happen," Merlin chuckled as Arthur rolled his eyes.

The amusement was interrupted by the arrival of a black cat that meowed and pawed at Merlin's exotic cloak in order to get his attention. The warlock's eyes softened and Harry was confused by the tenderness he saw as Merlin bent down and picked up the cat, kissing the top of its head as he cradled it in his arms.

"Guess that's our cue," he muttered to Arthur before explaining to the others, "I told Gwen to send Freya our way when it was time to start."

"That's Freya?" Hermione asked, surprised as the cat looked at her with bright yellow eyes.

"She's honoring Professor McGonagall by taking her cat form," Merlin said, absentmindedly scratching Freya's head before turning to the knights. "Come on then you three; we should go sit down before we're the last ones standing."

Harry looked around, realizing they were among the few still not in their seats. There was a small commotion as the small group went off to find their respective places, Harry sitting next to Ginny and Ron in the third row while Merlin, Arthur, Lancelot, and Gwaine joined the others of their party sitting in the very front.

The funeral turned out to be a lot like Professor Dumbledore's. Hagrid was honored with carrying the body of the former Headmistress, her still form wrapped in golden cloth of the finest silk. Resting the form on the table, Hagrid withdrew to a large chair off to the side where the other professors sat while a thin gangly man stood up and addressed the crowd. He spoke of McGonagall's life, of her love for teaching, and her devotion to Transfiguration. Harry found himself becoming lost in memories from the first time he'd entered her classroom to the last heroic act he saw her perform saving Morgana's life during Merlin's rescue. Silent tears fell down his cheeks but he didn't brush them away; they were tears full of respect and gratitude.

The man finished his eulogy and then announced there would be one other speaker before the casket ritual. Harry furrowed his brow, wondering who else would be allowed to contribute their thoughts and feelings towards the professor so many in the room had grown to love. For a moment he suspected one of the teachers, maybe Flitwick since he'd become her successor, but then a lone figure stood in the front row and Harry's eyes widened.

Wearing an elegant black gown lined in silver thread, Morgana Pendragon reached the platform and faced the gathered crowd. Several people remembered her from the battle of Hogwarts and immediately cried out in alarm and fear; a few even whipped out their wands, pointing them menacingly in her direction.

This reaction had been expected, however, because a moment later Kingsley stood in front of Morgana and magnified his voice for all to hear. "The woman you see before you now is the one whom Professor McGonagall died trying to protect and is _not_ the same evil witch who fought alongside Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts. She only wishes to pay her respects and we have granted her this desire. There is no need to be alarmed."

After a warning glance, the minister sat back down, giving Morgana a nod of encouragement. The former witch sent him a grateful glance before squaring her shoulders. Her countenance changed dramatically from being nervous and scared to commanding and noble. Harry was silently impressed with her display of courage; being so in a room full of people who looked upon you in disdain and mistrust was not easy.

Light green eyes filled with immense sorrow as the woman who used to be Merlin's greatest foe spoke with regret and gratitude for one of the kindest and bravest witches of present day.

"Good afternoon," Morgana began, ignoring the indignant stares several people were shooting her way. "I see that some of you recognize me but I feel the need to reiterate what Minister Shacklebolt has said and though you may not believe it, I urge you to keep an open mind." Her gaze looked to Merlin and Harry noticed the hooded warlock incline his head in permission for her to continue. Morgana nodded back, taking a deep breath. "My name is Morgana McGrath but most of you will remember who I was before I was reincarnated. I used to be Morgana Pendragon, High Priestess of the Old Religion. I, like several others of the past, have returned through the power of the Old Religion and the call of Destiny. There have also been many whispers that the greatest warlock of all time, Merlin Emrys, is once again walking among men. With permission, I am here to confirm that these rumors are true."

Not everyone had been there at the Battle of Hogwarts so it came as no surprise to Harry when many in the crowd shouted out expletives of disbelief and ridicule. So great was the uproar that for a moment Harry considered asking Hermione if she knew a spell that would let off a loud bang like the ones the professors had used in the past. The question was about to fall from his lips when another figure stood in the front row and Harry found he'd lost his voice.

Striding up to the platform next to Morgana, his black cloak billowing impressively from his long strides, was the man many in the room disbelieved had returned. When Merlin turned to face the crowd, his face was shroud in shadow but his eyes were blaring gold. The power of the Old Religion flew from him in a wave of incredible magic, everyone in the Hall left in a stunned silence in its wake.

"Morgana speaks the truth," Merlin declared, his voice ringing off the walls with power and authority. The entire time his eyes blazed gold and Harry was unconsciously shaking as he found himself unable to look away from his transcendent gaze. "Though she is not here to specifically announce my return, it is necessary for her to do so in order to contribute her feelings towards the great witch we are honoring here today. I implore each of you to hold your silence and allow her to speak with the knowledge that the questions you have concerning me and those who have returned will be answered in a press conference at the Ministry in three days time. Thank you."

Resting a long-fingered hand on Morgana's shoulder, the warlock inclined his head towards her before returning to his seat. The Hall was so quiet that Harry's ears were beginning to ring. The power Merlin had displayed in the form of some spell had left him breathless, something within flowing through his veins in both fear and awe. Harry didn't understand what he was feeling but he was certain he wasn't the only one. Ron was rubbing his arms repeatedly and Hermione was holding her heart, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Similar gestures were coming from the others. Whatever Merlin had done, it had unnerved every person in the room.

Morgana regained their attention by lightly clearing her throat. "Thank you, Merlin. As I was saying, I was reborn in this day and age as what the Wizarding World calls a muggle. Until two weeks ago I did not know I used to be Morgana Pendragon, living my life as an unassuming young woman. But then I met Merlin again and my memories returned. What I say next may go unheard, many may even scoff, but I say this with all energy of my soul: I regret my past actions and desire to spend the rest of this life doing what is right.

"That being said, on Christmas day, a group of renegade sorcerers known as Death Eaters captured Merlin and imprisoned him with no chance of escape. Having once been in league with their party, I volunteered with the aid of Professor McGonagall to infiltrate their hideout and provide a means for a rescue. Professor McGonagall decided to come with me because I no longer had magic and therefore was incapable of defending myself should the Death Eaters learn of my subterfuge before the rescue party could arrive."

Here Morgana paused, her eyes filling with tears.

"I did not know this woman as well as the majority of you gathered in this room," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "but in the brief moments I spent with her, I learned that Minerva McGonagall was an incredible witch and a loyal friend. Few of you can relate to hiding who you are in order to stay alive but I can tell you the fear is enough to steal your breath and stop your heart. Fewer still know what it's like to pretend that your friend is your enemy," she looked sorrowfully to Merlin, "forcing yourself to keep in character by cheering in their suffering and having to inflict them further by your own hand.

"Professor McGonagall comforted and helped me to remember that I no longer needed to be who I once was, that I was better than her. And then, during the actual rescue, Rodolphus Lestrange learned that I was actually a traitor. In an act of anger and revenge, he tried to kill me with the killing curse but Professor McGonagall intervened. She sacrificed herself so that I might live."

Morgana's voice cut short as a loud sob ripped from her throat. The crowd watched in disbelief as tears of remorse and immense sorrow fell from the eyes of the woman who once was the most evil witch to ever live.

Wiping her cheeks, Morgana looked up at the large gathering and smiled pitifully. "I still ask myself," she whispered though somehow her voice was heard even in the back of the room, "why someone so good would do something for someone like me? What would possess her to save me when I was once responsible for killing many of her friends and acquaintances during Voldemort's last stand? It still doesn't make sense to me but I vow at the foot of her grave to not waste her sacrifice. I have seen how magic can be a force for good, a power that can bring people together and help create a better future filled with happiness and love. Though I no longer possess the power myself, I promise from this time forth to stand by those who have magic and use it for these purposes. I will remember Minerva McGonagall with humility and gratitude and I send up a prayer to Avalon that her spirit may reside there in peace and happiness."

Harry watched as the former witch then bowed her head and turned to McGonagall's body. Cradling the deceased professor's head within her hands, Morgana rested her forehead against her brow and whispered something in a language Harry had never heard before. She then stepped away and returned to her seat, Gwaine immediately wrapping his arms around her as she cried openly into his shoulder. There was a shocked silence that followed Morgana's words, none willing to break it since nobody had any idea what to say.

And then Merlin stood up, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The warlock approached the table where McGonagall laid and smiled sadly at the prone figure. Raising one hand, he whispered, " _ **Foldræst."**_ His eyes burned gold and the Headmistress's body enveloped in a case of golden flame that burned brightly before transforming into a gleaming casket made of solid oak.

"Farewell, professor," Merlin muttered and then the casket vanished.

There were several gasps from the beautiful display of old magic as well as mutterings as to where the casket had been sent. Merlin turned to face the crowd and the mutterings dimmed as everyone leaned forward, eager to hear what the ancient warlock had to say.

"Professor McGonagall's body now rests in the Hogwarts Graveyard near that of Professors Dumbledore and Snape," he informed them. "If further respects are wished to be paid to her individually, please make your way out to the grounds to do so. Thank you all for coming. A feast will be held to honor the Headmistress's memory in an hour's time. Anyone who wish to may attend."

Merlin then walked off the platform back to his seat where the other Camelotians were already standing. The warlock gathered Freya into his arms and before anyone could interrogate them, led the way to a side door in the front so as to avoid the crowd now pining to get a better glimpse at the man of legend and those in his company. Harry let out a sigh as he stood up and extended a hand to a rather emotional Ginny. The redhead smiled sadly before taking his offer, wrapping her arms around him and crying quietly into his shoulder.

Harry patted Ginny's head soothingly, fighting the sting behind his eyes. He really didn't want to cry again. He'd cried so much the past couple weeks and he was starting to get sick of it.

"So much death," Ginny whispered into his shoulder. "When will it end?"

Harry didn't know what to say so he just kissed the top of Ginny's head and watched as many people started leaving the hall. The Order members stayed together in a group, a few of them talking quietly. Harry noticed Tonks talking animatedly to Molly with her hand on her protruding stomach. He smiled, remembering when she'd told him that she and Remus both wanted him to be the child's godfather. Harry was beyond honored. It was incredible to think that while they were honoring death, life continued to thrive. It was a humbling and awe-inspiring thought.

"This funeral," Ginny whispered, "it's just like the last one."

Harry's arms tightened, remembering all those who had died during the Hogwarts battle. One of the greatest personal losses had been Arthur Weasley, the first real father figure Harry could remember in his life. Christmas at the Weasleys had lacked its usual cheer due to the holiday being the first without the head of the family. Judging by the subdued looks on the rest of the Weasleys faces, they were remembering the loss just as much as Harry was. Feeling a sudden need to get out of the castle, Harry invited Ginny to go on a walk with him.

It came as no surprise when twenty minutes later they stood in front of Arthur Weasley's grave. Many people were lingering around the large graveyard, mostly waiting for their turn to visit McGonagall's new resting place. While Ginny fell to her knees and cried over her father's grave, Harry's gaze rested on the white tomb belonging to his greatest mentor. Next to Dumbledore's grave rested Severus Snape and a little further down two smaller grave heads marked the plot of Dobby and Goggle, house elves that had taken special residence in Harry and Merlin's hearts. A wave of sadness washed through the young wizard and he squeezed Ginny's shoulder.

"I'll be back," he assured her, kissing her cheek.

Ginny nodded, silently appreciating having a moment alone with her father. Harry weaved his way through the graves until he stood at the base of the white tomb. Resting a hand upon it, he smiled and muttered, "Hello, Professor. I, er, wanted to thank you again for everything you've done for me. McGonagall is probably with you now, doing whatever it is you do after you die. Snape too. I guess I just want to let you and the two of them know that I appreciate all of your sacrifices. I got accepted into the Auror program. I started training last week. It's brutal but I'm determined to do what it takes to keep the job."

He stared at the white marble again before letting his true feelings show, a couple tears falling down his face.

"It's hard sometimes," he muttered, "continuing on when so many people I know keep dying. I can't tell you how many inconsiderate gits have come up and asked me what it was like to survive the killing curse. Tact seems to be something that many in the Ministry are unfamiliar with. A lot of them have also been asking about Merlin. I kind of wish the two of you could have met, professor. I'd have loved to see Merlin in his old form next to you; I'm sure you would have tried to have a beard length contest. No offense but I think Merlin might have you beat on that one."

Chuckling at the imagery, Harry shook his head and continued. "He's a great man but one thing I've learned is that he's still human. I never thought I'd be on the other side, watching someone in awe – I'm used to being the one people gawk at – but it's hard not to when Merlin uses Old magic. He really is something. I don't think he likes the fame though. He reminds me of myself in that way. We both just want to be accepted for who we are not what people believe us to be. It's frustrating. I'm worried about him and what he plans to do now. I think he might try to break the Statute of Secrecy and I don't know if that's the right thing to do. I wish you were here… I'd like to know what you thought about all of this… Snape too, though I can't believe I'm saying that. McGonagall seemed supportive but I never outright asked her opinion on the matter."

Harry sighed, shaking his head. His life had become so complicated. Things used to be so much easier when he was still in school.

Well, not really; the challenges he faced then were just as hard as the ones he was facing now.

"I suppose it never gets easier, does it?" he muttered with a sad smile. "Our challenges match the maturity of our age. But it's really unfair; life is supposed to get easier as you get older, right? I guess I should ask Merlin that one. He's over fifteen hundred years old. If anyone would know the answer to that question it would be him."

Harry sighed again, removing his glasses so he could rub his eyes. Replacing the lenses, he placed a hand on the old headmaster's grave before walking past Snape's. Pausing briefly, he nodded a quiet, "Thank you for everything" before stopping at the grave of Dobby the house elf. His eyes filled with tears again.

"Hey Dobby," he said, his voice thick as he crouched down to place a hand on the elf's tombstone. "I can't thank you enough for saving Luna and the others from the Malfoys. You're the bravest elf I've ever met." Without thinking, he removed his right shoe and pulled off his sock. After replacing his shoe, he set the garment on Dobby's grave. "I'll bring you a sock every time I come visit," he promised with a sad smile. "It's the least I can do. And don't worry, I won't forget you."

Standing up, Harry turned around and wandered back over to Ginny. Her face was red and her eyes puffy but she was smiling. No words were exchanged between the two as they made their way through the snow back to the castle for the feast. When they entered the Great Hall the tables had been replaced and the Hogwarts students were sitting at their respective tables. Those who had come for the funeral and stayed mingled among them, sitting with the house they once belonged to. The professors were seated at the head table but instead of Flitwick in the center, King Arthur was found. His wife sat on his left with Merlin on his right and Freya, now human, next to him. The four were having what looked like a solemn conversation. Harry noticed that while they sat at the teachers table, the knights and Morgana were sitting with the Gryffindors. They were surrounded by curious students as well as a few Order members, Tonks included.

Harry saw Ron waving at him, indicating that he and Hermione had saved them a seat. The two slipped into the open space and Harry, suddenly famished, began filling his plate as the conversation continued around him.

"Are you guys going to participate in the press conference Merlin mentioned?" asked an entranced third year girl who was eyeing Lancelot with wide, hopeful eyes.

Ever polite, the knight kindly answered, "If it is our king's wish, we will be."

The third year sighed, " _Wow_ , how _noble_."

Harry snorted into his pudding. The poor girl didn't have a chance. At least Lancelot had enough tact not to pursue her advances. Gwaine probably would have if he wasn't currently bickering with his girlfriend.

"Since when do you care how much alcohol I consume in a day?" he demanded, holding his cup as if it were a priceless gem out of Morgana's reach.

The former witch's eyes flashed dangerously. "Heavy alcohol consumption causes early death, Gwaine. Liver disease and memory loss; do you want that to happen to you?"

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to lose my memory or my liver, woman. I'm exceptional at how much liquor I can hold."

"How much you hold has nothing to do with it," Leon muttered.

Gwaine glared at him.

"We're just worried about you, Gwaine," Percival tried in a softer tone. "We'd hate for anything to happen to you."

"As touching as this all is, I know my limits, guys," Gwaine said stubbornly. "I'm not going to go overboard."

Morgana opened her mouth to protest but Lancelot put a hand on her forearm and shook his head. His eyes conveyed the clear message to let the matter drop. Morgana didn't appear all too happy about it but she consented with a frustrated sigh and shake of her head. Gwaine went back to drinking his firewhiskey and immediately lightened the mood by telling a story involving Merlin that captivated everyone within earshot. Even those who had previously been giving Morgana unforgiving looks lost their focus on her as they listened to Gwaine's tale.

Harry enjoyed it just as much as everyone else, envisioning Merlin transforming into a dragon and stopping the dispute Arthur had been having with a visiting lord while out in Camelot's courtyard. The man had then tried to challenge the warlock but the poor sod changed him mind at the sight of Merlin's teeth as the dragon grinned humorously at him in acceptance of the challenge. Harry laughed with the others as Gwaine finished, "And the fool leapt on his horse, threw the agreement he'd made at Arthur's feet, and fled from the castle before Merlin even had time to change back to normal!"

Several other stories were then provoked from the knights and soon the Gryffindor table was the place to be as students from other houses – including Slytherin! – wandered over to hear the tales of the greatest warlock of all time. At one point Harry chanced a glance at the head table but found it devoid of both Merlin and Freya. Arthur and Guinevere were still there, eyeing the Gryffindor table and the large crowd around their knights with slight concern but neither felt their comrades were threatened. They stayed where they were, speaking with Flitwick and Sprout, laughing occasionally and nodding in agreement with whatever was being said.

Harry found it all rather strange. Never would he have thought he would be sitting at Hogwarts without having to worry about what Voldemort might be planning next. He didn't even have to worry about the Death Eaters since the last of them had been gathered up during Merlin's rescue. For a moment he even fooled himself into believing that perhaps his job as an Auror would be a simple one but then he was reminded that just because one evil was gone did not mean that another would never rise. If there was one thing he'd learned since meeting Merlin it was that there had to be a balance. He and Arthur were some of the best examples of good that Harry had ever seen. And so, since there was good, there had to be evil somewhere. A sense of foreboding began to stir within his chest as Harry watched his friends laugh and enjoy each other's company. He had a horrible feeling that this was just a reprieve. Merlin and Arthur still had a destiny to fulfill and if there was one thing Harry had come to understand about Destiny it was that there was always a hero and a villain. Morgana had fulfilled the latter role in the past but she clearly wasn't going to be doing so now. So then who was it and where were they and when were they going to strike?

Harry bit his lip. His personal destiny may have been fulfilled but he still felt he had a part to play in all of this. He made a silent vow to do better at his Auror training. He had a feeling that he was going to need it sooner than he would have liked...

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 **Oh boy! Foreshadowing? What on earth is she planning to do next? Muhaha. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you. In the meantime, leave a review, if you don't mind. :3 More to come soon!**

 _ **Foldræst**_ : Rest in the earth


	32. Chapter 32

**Oh my gosh, you guys. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Loved. every. second of that movie. SO GOOD! Okay, this chapter is nice and big for all of you but it does contain a small spoiler from FBandWtFT. Well, it kind of does. I don't think you need to worry though. Let me explain. The 'spoiler' is just information about the American Wizarding government and it's information that you can find on Pottermore. So, yeah, don't freak out too much if you haven't seen the movie. I promise there's nothing in this chapter that mentions anything that happens in Fantastic Beasts - just a rule the American government has.**

 **Right, now that we've established that, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I didn't get a lot of reviews last time but I thank those who did. They really made my day! You know who you are.**

 **Warning: BROMANCE AHEAD. :D**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or anything from JK Rowling's wizarding world, etc.**

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32: Exposure, a Tragic Inevitability

"Merlin!"

The warlock inwardly flinched but didn't move as the voice of his king drifted up the stairs, the sound of pounding feet making their way towards him. No matter how wrathful Arthur turned out to be, Merlin wasn't getting up. Nope, never, ever again.

Not after what happened.

The door to his room burst open and a furious looking Arthur Pendragon appeared, his blonde hair sticking up in the back, indicating the king had quickly dressed in a pair of trousers and a tunic before running to his Court Sorcerer's tower.

"Merlin, this is ridiculous," Arthur complained, striding over and attempting to yank the covers off his bed. Unfortunately for him, Merlin magicked them so they couldn't move. Arthur fought a losing battle for a full thirty seconds before he let the sheets go and angrily glared at the warlock. "Merlin, _get up!"_ he commanded.

"No," Merlin muttered, curling further in on himself.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "This has to end! You've been in this bed for over a week!"

"And it's exactly where I'm going to stay!" Merlin replied stubbornly, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to make his king go away.

"Oh, for the love of Camelot!" Arthur grumbled, slamming himself into a chair by the warlock's bed, fuming at his best friend.

"Arthur, you know why I don't want to leave," Merlin mumbled, peeking up at his older brother with a hint of sympathy. He knew he was driving Arthur crazy but he just couldn't get himself to leave his room. No good would come of it.

Arthur sighed. "Merlin, the press conference was almost two weeks ago."

"And the after effects are still happening," Merlin complained, pointing at a corner of his room where a huge pile of letters had collected. "Those are only the ones that appeared _last night_ , Arthur. Do you know how many letters I've had to burn in the last twelve days?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No more than me, except I have to physically cast mine into the fire. Look, so we get a lot of fan mail–"

"You mean hate mail," Merlin muttered.

"That too," Arthur acknowledged, "but the skeptics will disappear in time – although they might be right if you simply decide to disappear into the woodwork again. Hiding in your tower isn't doing you any favors, Merlin."

Merlin sighed. Arthur was right – not that he'd ever admit that to him – But it was just so _hard!_

Two weeks ago, they had told the truth at the Press Conference concerning what happened during his capture, also explaining Merlin's immortality as well as the end of it, Arthur and the others miraculous return, and their intentions towards doing what Destiny had asked them to do. Since then Merlin had become the most famous wizard in the world, receiving both love and hate mail from every country and more attention than he'd ever had as Court Sorcerer in King Arthur's court. Arthur was receiving just as much attention, the others too, and in order to appease the countless questions they had been given during the press conference, the Camelotians had sat down and had personal interviews with several reporters. Their interviews had then been published in the Daily and Evening Prophets – the articles so big that they continued from one issue into the next – and now the world couldn't seem to get enough of them.

The day after the newspaper hit the stands, people were apparating to Hogsmeade, crowding the village and storming the castle grounds in an attempt to see the greatest warlock of all time and his legendary king for themselves. It had become so distracting for the students that Arthur had banned all visitors to the castle, creating a magical barrier that prevented any from entering no matter what form of magic they tried. The one thing he couldn't stop was the letters since banning the post was out of the question; the students and teachers had to remain in contact with the outside world _somehow_.

It had been flattering at first, but when the love letters began to include proposals and the hate mail began to include threats, Merlin had given up reading anything, instead casting it all into the fire unless he recognized the name – which only happened when one of their friends from the Ministry sent him a message asking for permission to enter the school.

While the letters were a problem in and of themselves, the students hadn't helped matters. The Camelotians could barely make it down the corridors without being bombarded by requests for autographs, pictures, and even dates. Yes, the students seemed to have no shame asking out the single knights in their group; though, so far, every request had been declined. Many were disappointed to learn that Morgana and Gwaine were an item but were ecstatic and deeply curious when the truth leaked out that Freya was engaged to Merlin. That had been something the warlock had desperately tried to keep out of the papers but somehow word had spread around the castle and therefore throughout the entire Wizarding World that the most powerful warlock was soon to marry the former Lady of the Lake. Now included in the letters were women audaciously asking to be his second wife! Not to mention the packages full of… ahem, _questionable_ items…

Merlin shuddered. He had never been a fan of publicity and now he was under a spotlight so hot that the only way to get out from under it was to remain in the shady isolation of his tower. None could enter here unless he gave them permission – his friends having automatic access, of course, explaining Arthur's uninvited appearance. Merlin had caught so many idiotic sorcerers trying to break into his tower that he'd decided to place a repelling jinx on the secret entrance. Now, if someone tried to get in that wasn't allowed, they were thrown back and cursed to wear a beard for a full twenty four hours (and since it was Old magic no amount of the modern could remove it). It was the warlock's little revenge for all the 'Merlin's beard!' expletives he'd had to endure over the years.

Fred and George had thought the whole thing brilliant and were now selling replica beards at their joke shop – which sold out in the first day since, of course, they were 'approved by Merlin himself'. Merlin rolled his eyes. Those two; they were taking full advantage of using his name but he oddly wasn't upset about it. In fact, he was rather amused. He'd even given them a few ideas in spite of himself. It was just too funny seeing people wander around with beards and drinking potions that changed their eye color yellow.

Still though, deep down he hated all the attention and Arthur knew it.

"I just want to be your shadow," Merlin mumbled as he rolled over fully to face his king, "like the old days."

Arthur smiled sadly at him, his eyes full of sympathy. "Merlin, even in the old days you were popular."

"Only after everyone knew who I really was," he grumbled. "Before that I could stay in the background without anyone batting an eyelid. Now I can't even walk down a corridor without fifty people pining for my attention. Arthur, I _hate_ this! Can't I just make myself invisible for the rest of mortality?"

Arthur's eyes danced a little. "Wouldn't that be something," he mused before shaking his head and letting the fantasy go. "We're all having to deal with the publicity, Merlin. Yours may be a little more than ours though since you're a sorcerer. Although, Morgana has gotten enough hate mail that Kingsley had to assign her one his Aurors in order to protect her. Did you know that someone attempted to kill her yesterday by sending some kind of curse in a package?"

Merlin stiffened immediately. "What?" he yelped, horrified.

"She's alright," the king assured before a dark scowl tugged at the corners of his mouth. "They found the perpetrator – some crazed old loon convinced that Morgana was going to slaughter us all in the castle and take it over herself. They sentenced him to five years in Azkaban."

Merlin shook his head. "Are you sure Morgana's alright?"

"She's fine," Arthur reassured, "a little shaken but fine." The king's face darkened further. "My father and Gaius ran into some trouble too. I shouldn't have mentioned in that interview that I grew up in California! It was just something I said in passing – I had no idea–"

But Merlin was no longer listening. His senses were now on high alert and anger boiled beneath his skin at the thought of _anyone_ laying a hand on Gaius – and Uther for that matter. "What happened?" he demanded, interrupting Arthur as he sat up.

The king blinked before he frowned, recognizing the warlock's protective stance. "They're fine, Merlin. Some wizarding press just tried to break into the house and interview them but they couldn't get inside. Thank you for casting a protective charm on the house the day before we left – that was smart thinking on your part."

"I'm glad I did," Merlin growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "They're going too far. Uther and Gaius do not deserve to have this kind of trauma in their lives."

"Nobody deserves it Merlin yet here we are," Arthur sighed. "You don't need to concern yourself though. Since your magic keeps the paparazzi out, the only concern the MACUSA has is the amount of magic being used to try to break it. They've sent their law enforcement and Kingsley added additional Aurors to the group to protect both Gaius and my father from outside threats - though the MACUSA are of the opinion that Gaius and Uther's memories should be obliviated since they're not magical," he finished bitterly.

Merlin's hands were balled into fists, his eyes flashing dangerously. "If they even attempt to do such a thing–" he began.

Arthur held up a hand. "They know not to provoke you, Merlin. Believe me, I threatened them enough the past few days when Kingsley asked me to come to the Ministry to address the issue of banning visitors from the school. They're going to have to learn that I am not a man to cross and neither are you. It'll take time but if you wallow away in this tower, you're only allowing them to make assumptions instead of seeing the man you truly are."

Merlin sighed before throwing in the towel. Arthur was right; he couldn't hide forever - especially if his friends and family were being threatened. Tossing the covers aside, he forced himself out of bed and wandered over to his wardrobe where he kept a selection of clothes both ancient and modern. Opting for his ancient wear, he pulled out a fine green tunic and a black leather vest. Slipping into a pair of black trousers and boots, he threw on the tunic and vest before tying a silver neckerchief around his neck embroidered with green and black patterns.

Arthur couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Deciding to be a Slytherin today?" he teased.

Merlin looked down at his outfit. No, he hadn't planned that but there wasn't a point in changing; once he was dressed, he was dressed. Rolling his eyes, he walked into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, " _You're_ the one who more or less forced me to wear something besides red, blue, and brown after becoming Court Sorcerer."

Arthur's muffled laughter was heard on the other side of the door and Merlin couldn't help smiling as he finished getting himself ready, shaving and brushing his teeth before running a comb through his black locks. Returning to his bedroom s few minutes later, he found Arthur shifting nosily through his mail.

"You know, reading another person's mail is a criminal offense," he said.

Arthur wasn't worried in the slightest as he sighed, holding up a package that no doubt had some sick seductive item inside judging by all of the lipstick marks on the outside of the parcel. "You're getting them too, then?"

Merlin groaned. "You'd think they'd stop, knowing that both of us are off the market."

"Gwaine finds it all hilarious," Arthur remarked, tossing the box away with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Of course he does," Merlin muttered, rolling his eyes before lighting the entire pile on fire. In two seconds the letters were gone and the ashes were removing themselves up the chimney.

"Alright, you're destroying mine too from now on," Arthur said enviously. "Do you know how much ash has collected around my chambers in the past two weeks? I found Guinevere scrubbing the floors the other day because she couldn't stand to walk around the room."

Merlin grimaced. "She doesn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well, since you made it so none of the house elves can clean the place," Arthur began suggestively.

Merlin sighed. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry I neglected taking care of your royal pratness because I didn't want to face the world. There, happy?"

"Immensely," Arthur smugly answered before his gaze softened. "It's only going to be difficult for a while, Merlin. Remember how it was when you first became Court Sorcerer? Every druid came to you for advice and several people, noble and commoner alike, tried to walk all over you – but you held firm. You did it then and you can do it now. People will learn that you are a man to be respected who deserves the privacy he asks for. We're all in the same boat so the least you can do is help us steer out of this mess."

Merlin smiled, sighing sadly. "Alright, just don't go too far away from me as I steer, okay?"

Arthur paused, looking at the wary warlock for a long moment. "This isn't just about the publicity, is it?"

Merlin looked at him, surprised. "I never would have thought you this perceptive in your young age."

The king rolled his eyes. "I may look twenty four but –not including what I've gained in this life – I have forty seven years of experience under my belt, Merlin. Besides that, I've learned to read you quite well. This is about your fear of wands too, isn't it?"

Merlin swallowed, unable to meet Arthur's calculating gaze. Yes, it was. Truth be told, Merlin had been petrified out of his mind the first day their fame spread. Students had not only thrust parchment and quill in his face but many begged him to sign their wands and, due to their excitement, uncontrolled magic had flared from the tips. It had taken all of Merlin's self control not to transport himself back to his tower and hide in the comforts of a familiar environment for the rest of the day.

Arthur, seeing Merlin's distress, walked over and placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, you know that it's not going to go away unless you face it, right?"

The warlock had difficulty swallowing as he choked out, "I know but…"

"You were exposed to a little too much too fast," Arthur answered, understanding what he was trying to say. "It'll ease your mind then to know that I have since banned any child from using their wands between classes. Any who do are frozen in place and cannot move until a teacher finds me and I unfreeze them."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Wow, you're really getting to know how to run the magic of the castle, aren't you?"

Arthur grinned. "Well, I'll admit it's all been trial and error but it's also quite fun. I don't need to have guards to arrest anyone anymore– the magic at my command does that all on its own!"

"I knew you'd enjoy that particular feature," Merlin grinned as the two made their way down the stone steps into Merlin's main chambers.

The grin disappeared, however, as they stopped in front of Merlin's door. The warlock froze, his inner senses of dread coiling knots in his stomach. A brief flash of a memory involving a wand followed by pain in his back as his skin was sliced open brushed against the surface of Merlin's mind. He unconsciously took a step back.

"I-I can't," he whispered, tortured eyes refocusing on his king who stood eyeing him with concern.

Arthur gently took Merlin's forearm to steady him. "I will be right beside you," the king promised, his eyes conveying the sincerity of the promise. "No harm will come to you while you're with me, Merlin."

The warlock swallowed. He was touched by the protection Arthur offered but he was still scared.

How he hated being so vulnerable! He was the most powerful warlock of all and yet he was cowering at the very idea of wandering around a school filled with naïve magic users whose power was like a nagging fly compared to his own. Why was it so hard to walk through that door?

"Do you really believe I can do this?" Merlin asked, his voice trembling as he looked to his king.

Arthur's gaze softened. It was a look he'd rarely seen in the man's younger days but as the king grew in maturity and experience he had come to accept that showing tenderness and compassion to those he cared for was not a weakness of character but a strength.

"I have all confidence in you, idiot," he said affectionately. "And I know you have it in yourself; you've just lost sight of it."

"Then how do I get it back?" Merlin inquired desperately.

"By coming with me," Arthur stated, pushing the door open and revealing the outer corridor that was thankfully empty. The king stepped out and turned around, holding an inviting hand toward him. "Come on, Merlin."

Merlin stared at his best friend. Such confidence, reassurance, and belief in him radiated from those light blue eyes and that calm, encouraging smile. The fierce loyalty, affection, and desire to do all that Arthur asked of him caused Merlin to take one hesitant step forward.

He could do this.

He could do this because Arthur believed in him. Arthur would be there every step of the way, protecting him. And though these thoughts would normally cause Merlin to cringe at the very idea of being so hopelessly helpless, he knew that the fear he was dealing with could not be overcome on his own. He needed Arthur because, when it came down to it, he may be Arthur's protector but Arthur was his foundation. Arthur kept him grounded, focused, and purpose-filled. He helped him feel safe, whole, and happy. When Arthur was there, everything was as it should be. The hundreds of years he'd lived alone had been dark, lonely, and broken. Arthur was the other half of his soul and so Merlin could never be truly whole without him. When one side of the coin was weak, the other exuded an extra amount of strength to buoy the other up and that was what Arthur was doing now.

How Merlin loved him. Not with the same kind of love he held for Freya but a different, all-encompassing kind of love. To know that someone cared so much for him that they were willing to sacrifice everything to ensure his happiness and safety; it left a gratitude so deep in his heart that Merlin could not find words to express it. The bond between the warlock and the king was stronger than Merlin's fears and as he thought of it, he found the strength he was looking for.

No matter how fearful he was of being around New magic users, no matter how much suffering he'd endured by the hands of a wand, Merlin knew that with Arthur at his side, he would eventually be able to overcome the scars Rodolphus Lestrange had placed upon him. The other half of his coin would come to his rescue time and time again, just as he'd done that day and as he'd done so many times in the past. Merlin just had to find the strength within himself to endure the pain and the weakness, to plow through the hardship as he'd always done before.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the corridor, his heart thumping madly in his chest as his eyes swiveled back and forth in search of any students. Thankfully, there were none. He unconsciously flicked his wrist, sealing his tower shut, before closing his eyes.

He was exposed. Anyone could find him here. They were going to demand his attention, ask him to sign things, thrust their wands towards him. Merlin shuddered.

"Just breathe, Merlin," someone soothed, rubbing his back.

Arthur.

What did he want him to do?

Oh, right; breathe.

He was breathing, wasn't he?

It was then that the warlock realized he'd started hyperventilating. He had to calm down. Forcing his breaths to become long and slow, Merlin closed his eyes.

"That's it," Arthur soothed, still rubbing soothing circles into his back, "that's it."

After a long, shaky breath, Merlin opened his eyes. "Thanks," he muttered.

Arthur smiled. "Are you alright?"

Merlin nodded. "I think so."

The king lightly clapped him on the shoulder. "There, see? I told you, you could do it."

Merlin sent him a weak smile. "Arthur, we're not even around anyone yet."

"No, but you managed to get yourself out of your tower and into the corridor so I'm taking that as a victory," the king stated.

"Since when are you the optimistic one?" Merlin teased.

"Since you decided to be a cranky old man who hides in his tower away from prying eyes," Arthur answered, ruffling his hair. "Now, come on. If we hurry, we'll make it before breakfast is over."

"Breakfast?!" Merlin cried in dismay, instinctively following after his king. "But the whole Hall will be full of people!"

Arthur put a comforting arm around Merlin's shoulder as they went down a flight of stairs. "Don't worry, Merlin," he assured, "none of the students will be using magic when they're too busy stuffing their faces with sausages."

Merlin snorted. "Only you would be doing that – stuffing yourself with sausages, I mean, since you don't have an ounce of magical talent in your body."

The king hit his Court Sorcerer over the head in response to the jibe. "Shut up, Merlin. As I was saying, I had Flitwick ask them to limit their use of magic to the class and practice rooms instead of the corridors. They've been warned that any that break this rule are subject to a detention. So far there have only been minor displays of misconduct so you don't have too much to worry about."

"That's great, I suppose," Merlin muttered as they drew closer to the marble staircase. Glancing at the king, his fears were temporarily forgotten as a grin slid onto his face. "Arthur?"

"What? Don't tell me you're going to try to find a way out of coming with me, Merlin, because that's not an option for you."

Merlin chuckled. "I actually wasn't going to try anything of the sort. I just thought I'd let you know that you haven't combed your hair. Neither are you wearing any shoes."

Arthur froze and stared down. Indeed he looked quite the sight for a king, dressed in nothing but a thin tunic and a pair of loose trousers. Finally fully aware of his rather hasty results of getting dressed, the king tried to regain some of his dignity as Merlin's grin widened and his eyes danced.

Folding his arms, Arthur snapped, "Well, what do you expect? I was too concerned about making sure my Court Sorcerer hadn't died in his tower to spend time properly getting dressed!"

"Why, sire, I'm touched," Merlin said, holding his hand over his heart. "Normally your vanity blinds you to such compassion."

Arthur's cheeks darkened before he struck like a cobra. Pinching one of Merlin's large ears between his forefinger and thumb, he began striding down the hall away from the marble staircase. "Here's some compassion for you," he snapped, ignoring the loud complaints and hissing protests of his Court Sorcerer, "why don't you come with me back to my chambers where I'll get properly dressed and you'll spend the next fifteen minutes scrubbing my ash-covered floor _without_ magic!"

"How is it possible that after all these years you're still capable of being a complete and utter _prat?"_ Merlin complained as Arthur more or less shoved him through the Camelot painting into his room a few minutes later.

Arthur followed right behind him. "Someone has to be in your life, Merlin," he answered with a smug grin, picking up the bucket and scrub brush Guinevere had been using earlier and pushing them into Merlin's hands. "Well, get started then," he ordered before walking to his closet and pulling out a fine red jacket and brown leather boots.

Merlin shook his head while rubbing his now very sore ear. It really did baffle him at times how Arthur still managed to occasionally act like he had as a young, stuffy prince when he'd grown up into being the great King of all Albion.

Sighing and looking at the state of the royal chambers, Merlin inwardly winced at how filthy they'd become. He could tell that Guinevere had tried to keep things relatively clean – her personal possessions were all where they should be – but Arthur, as usual, had dumped all of his dirty laundry on the floor and allowed his desk to become a monstrous pile of paperwork and random objects. Ash from burnt letters had indeed ruined the usual color of the stony fireplace and tracked throughout the room into the stone grooves of the floor. The place wasn't necessarily a pigsty but it definitely wasn't up to the standards expected of royalty. Well, Arthur's side of the room wasn't anyway.

"What _happened?!"_ he complained while magicking his outfit into his old servant attire; there was no way he was getting his nice Court Sorcerer clothes dirty while cleaning up this mess. "I can't leave you for two weeks without you destroying everything!"

"You're the one who wanted to remain serving me in this lifetime, Merlin," Arthur commented from the bathroom. "It's not my fault you've been neglecting your self-induced job for two weeks."

Merlin scowled. "Dollophead," he grumbled before snapping his fingers, his eyes burning as his magic sprung to answer his command.

Arthur may have told him to clean the floor by hand but that didn't mean he couldn't use magic to fix up the rest of the room. So, as Merlin got down on his hands and knees to scrub the ash and dirt from the floor, Arthur's clothes flew across the room to the hamper, papers straightened into an orderly pile on the desk, and random personal items returned to their proper place. While this happened, Arthur came striding out of the bathroom and dodged a pair of trousers without so much as batting an eyelid, picking up his boots and slipping them on with a smile on his face.

It was just like old times – before Arthur had hired Liam, that is.

After only scrubbing a few feet of the large room, Arthur took pity on Merlin and told him to clean the rest of the floor with magic. Merlin rolled his eyes as they flashed gold, the ash and dirt disappearing instantly, leaving the room as good as new. Standing up, the warlock brushed off his hands and knees before folding his arms and scowling at the king.

"Was that really necessary, making me do that?" he demanded.

Arthur bit his lip. "Perhaps it was a bit unfair," he admitted, shamefaced.

Merlin felt the familiar rush of affection he reserved for his king at seeing Arthur's remorse. Smiling, he shook his head, instantly forgiving his friend. "What else can be expected of a complete and total turnip-head?"

Arthur still looked upset with himself. "Merlin, I don't know what made me do that," he muttered, confused and troubled. "I haven't forced you to do physical labor like that since… well, since I found out about everything you've done for me."

Merlin thought he might have an idea. "Well, whether you like it or not, you're twenty four, Arthur."

The king scowled. "I'm older than that, Merlin! And that's not an excuse."

"You've got two different ages inside of you, Arthur," Merlin tried again to explain. "Yes, you're the ancient forty seven year old king who has learned from his mistakes and treats others with nothing but compassion and kindness. But you also have the mind of a modern twenty four year old spoiled prat whose father paid for everything his entire life. What you just ordered me to do was similar to what your twenty four year old past-self would have done. You didn't know of my magic then. You treated me as an incompetent manservant and you did the same thing just now."

Arthur's frown deepened, his eyes reflecting the regret he felt for what happened. "Merlin, I'm sorry," he apologized. "This is all so confusing. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose. Have there been other times, since we met again in London, that I've treated you poorly like this?"

Merlin smiled. Returning his clothes to his Court Sorcerer attire, he walked up to Arthur and placed two comforting hands on the young king's shoulders. "None that I can recall. But, Arthur, I _really_ don't mind. You think I would have gotten down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the floor if that weren't true? So you're going through your prattish stages again – I survived them once and I'll do so again. Contrary to what you may believe, I actually _enjoy_ it. It makes me feel young again. So don't beat yourself up _too_ much. If it ever gets out of hand, you know I'll reprimand you for it. I always do."

Arthur's lips twitched but he didn't smile. "That doesn't excuse the way I treat you, Merlin. You're more than just a servant to me."

"I know that," Merlin answered, gratified. "I really do. And even if that's all I was to you, I'd be happy to fill that role because while you might be a prat, you're also a great man. You were when you were twenty four in the past and you still are today. The greatness just isn't yet at the point where it's always fully visible."

Arthur sneered. "Thanks, Merlin. Did you mean to compliment and insult me at the same time?"

"You're smarter than you look," Merlin chuckled. "Now come on, you're hungry and so am I."

"And we only have a few more minutes before classes start," Arthur added.

Merlin stiffened in dread. "Yeah, that too," he muttered.

Arthur placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You'll be fine, Merlin. It won't just be me coming with you to the classes. The others will be there too."

Merlin's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

Arthur grinned. "They're all rather excited to see how a magic school is run. Frankly so am I. We didn't really get to attend a class when we were here last time – what with running around the country trying to hide from and later destroying Voldemort."

"Well, prepare yourself," Merlin warned, "History of Magic is the most boring class you'll ever have to sit through."

Arthur laughed. "Unlike you, Merlin, I actually _like_ history. Learning from the mistakes of previous leaders helps me know what _not_ to do."

Merlin shook his head. "You haven't sat through a lecture from Professor Binns before. Believe me, you're going to be pining for a chance to sleep."

Arthur frowned. "Maybe we should only go to the classes that involve using wands then…"

Merlin swallowed. "On second thought, Professor Binns' class is the best. You'll love it."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together. "Merlin."

"What?" Arthur continued to scowl at him. Merlin sighed. "I know, I know. We're only going to these classes for my sake and classes that don't use wands are pointless to sit through."

Arthur patted his shoulder consolingly. "That's right. Now, let's go."

Merlin's grimace remained firmly planted on his feet all the way until they stepped through the doors of the Great Hall. The usual level of volume in the hall dropped considerably at the appearance of the king and the warlock. Arthur sent an encouraging nod to Merlin before the two set off towards the teachers' table.

"See what he's wearing?"

"He's sporting _Slytherin!"_

"Does that mean the history books were right?"

"He was sorted into Slytherin? But only bad wizards come from there!"

"The great wizard Merlin could never be evil, you halfwit!"

Merlin tried to ignore the whispers. Yes, he'd been sorted into Slytherin – along with all three other houses! So what; he'd chosen to wear Slytherin's colors today – _unconsciously_. Though now gone, Merlin still considered Salazar to be a close friend and felt no shame sporting the man's house. What did it matter what the students thought of him anyway? He was over fifteen hundred years old and could do what he wanted without having to explain himself!

The warlock was distracted from his thoughts as someone called his name. Merlin looked up to see a rather excited Freya running towards him from the teachers table. Her hair was down today, the long dark curls bouncing freely about her shoulders as she sprinted between the tables towards him. She wore dark green pants and a cream colored sweater that hugged her curves and brought out the brown of her eyes. Even though Freya came to see him every day during his isolation, seeing her now made Merlin feel like he hadn't seen her in months.

Freya threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Merlin tried to ignore the large amount of 'awwws' and wolf-whistles from the students at the sight.

"You're up!" Freya muttered happily before she let go and grinned at Arthur. "You finally did it," she praised.

Arthur smiled. "I told you I would."

Freya took Merlin's hand and started pulling him towards the teachers table where the rest of the knights, Morgana, and Gwen were waiting for him. Each held a relieved smile and when he drew close, Gwen glared before enclosing him in a fierce hug.

"You're never allowed to go back to that tower again," she muttered.

"Sorry to make you worry, Gwen," he apologized, feeling bad for causing such stress in his friends' lives.

"It _does_ seem to be a hopeless flaw of yours," Morgana commented, getting a hug of her own.

Gwaine clapped Merlin on the back. "Good to see ya, mate." He then turned to Leon and held out a hand. "That'll be five pounds."

Leon sighed before pulling out his wallet and passing the note over to the expectant knight. "I don't know why I even bothered."

"You'd think -after all previous experiences- that you would've learned by now that betting against Gwaine is a bad idea," Percival commented.

"I'd hoped his luck might have run out in this lifetime," Leon answered.

"Guess you were wrong," Lancelot chuckled as a rather smug-looking Gwaine pocketed the five pound note.

"You placed bets?" Merlin asked, more amused than angry.

Gwaine shrugged. "Leon said you wouldn't reappear for a month while I said two weeks. Thanks for making me win the bet, you two. I couldn't have done it without you."

Merlin looked on amused as Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't do it for _you_ , Gwaine. Besides, I've been trying to get Merlin to leave that tower since that blasted news article hit the stands. He just happened to do it today."

Gwaine grinned. "Proving that Lady Luck loves me."

Arthur decided to give up arguing, wandering around the table to his chair in the center where a plethora of sausages awaited him. Merlin soon joined him, the protests of his stomach loud enough for his friends to hear; all of them urged him to eat. Sitting in front of all of the students was unnerving to say the least but Merlin found he could mostly ignore them as Arthur caught him up on what had been happening during his isolation.

"Kingsley came to see me yesterday day," Arthur revealed between bites.

"Oh? What did he want?"

Arthur shrugged. "Oh, nothing really – just that every head government official in any magical position has more or less demanded that you and I be arrested."

"What?!" Merlin yelped. "What for?"

"For announcing our intention of breaking the Statute of Secrecy," Arthur grimly revealed. "First off, they don't really believe we are who we really are and second, they said they'd rather capture and keep us locked up for the rest of our days before muggles know of their existence."

"That's ridiculous," Merlin snapped. "They can't stop Destiny from happening, Arthur."

"I know that," Arthur sighed. "Kingsley knows it too, I think. Due to all of the attacks done by the Death Eaters before we rounded the last of them up, muggles have begun rallying together throughout England. They're all witnesses to the strange 'terrorist attacks' and they've banded together through a website online called 'The Eye'. Guess what they're theory is behind the attacks."

Merlin felt his heart skip a beat and his magic sped up beneath his skin. He already knew what it was going to be but he found he couldn't say it aloud. "What is it?" he asked instead.

"Magic," Arthur answered, smiling. "They've run a fine-tooth comb through every accident that's occurred since Voldemort started terrorizing the countryside earlier this year and they've come to the conclusion that none of it makes any logical sense."

"So they're calling it magic?" Merlin asked, skeptical as to how many people would actually believe that was truly the case.

Arthur shrugged. "Before I remembered that magic was real, I witnessed what happened at Somerset House. The only explanation my fear-ridden mind could come up with was magic. It was hard to believe but instinctively it was the only thing that made sense to me. I know it's difficult for some to believe but muggles are not idiots, Merlin. We may not be able to explain what happens but we know that something has been going on and we're determined to know what. And that's not all…"

Merlin's brow furrowed as he saw Arthur shift uncomfortably in his seat. The king wore a look that Merlin had seen many times; he was worried and he didn't want Merlin to know about whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Arthur?" he prompted.

The king looked up at him reluctantly. He sighed. "There was another reason behind Kingsley's visit."

"What?"

Arthur reached into his jacket and pulled out a newspaper article that he'd been hiding. It wasn't from The Daily Prophet but the muggle newspaper, The Daily Telegraph. Smoothing out the page, he handed it to Merlin who stared in horror at the image and the article that accompanied it.

"'Break-in of British Museum; Authorities Left Baffled by Further Attack of Historic Architecture'," Merlin read aloud as he observed the image of the famous building half consumed in flames. He looked up at Arthur, wide-eyed. "Arthur, what happened?"

The king sighed. "According to Kingsley whoever broke in did so with magic. There was no forced entry and the security guards they found were dead without any markings on their bodies."

Merlin's magic spiked in warning, something it hadn't done since Christmas day. "What were they looking for?" he muttered.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know but... the incident happened yesterday, Merlin, and the only place that was ransacked in the museum was the time period we're from."

The warlock let out a quiet curse. "Great, just what we need, another enemy," he grumbled. "As if we don't have enough haters already."

"At least the haters have only sent us mail," Arthur commented. "Whoever this is, they're looking for something. Why else attack a museum?"

Merlin made to stand up. "We should go take a look for ourselves."

Arthur grabbed his forearm immediately. "No!" Several students procrastinating going to class looked their way. Lowering his voice Arthur continued, "Merlin, you're in no condition to be fighting against anyone with a wand right now. You and I both know that. And the last time you went running off…" the king didn't finish for there was no need.

Merlin glared at him but he knew Arthur was right. If he went to the museum and someone attacked him with a wand, his magic would instinctively flare up in self defense and more than likely demolish the rest of the building.

"But we can't just sit here and do nothing," he complained.

"Kingsley's men are on it," Arthur said, sounding just as frustrated about the situation as Merlin. "They'll keep us informed should anything further arise. As for right now we need to concentrate on you. We'll attend classes together and keep our ear out. That's all we can currently do."

Merlin looked to where the knights still stood off to the side talking and laughed in a small group. "Remember the days when you heard of a problem and you'd send out the knights to investigate?"

Arthur raised a curious brow. "Are you suggesting…?"

Merlin shrugged. "It was just a thought. I'd imagine they don't want to spend the rest of their lives cooped up here in the school. Each of you had lives you were living before your memories returned, Arthur. You were studying to become a lawyer, Gwen a politician, Lancelot and Percival law enforcement; Morgana was a librarian, Leon a security guard, Freya a florist, Gwaine a corporate owner, and Elyan a mechanic. You all seem to have thrown those lives away and I'd hate to be the reason your chosen careers are in jeopardy."

Arthur squeezed his forearm reassuringly. "I'm well aware of what I've given up, Merlin. You're forgetting that, in my case at least, my father removed me from school and evicted me from my apartment. I don't have anything to go back to in London. Guinevere confessed to me that she's not sure that she wants to pursue a political career anymore. And I don't know what the others are planning to do with their current lives but I suspect that Freya will have no problems losing her flower shop if it means spending the rest of her life with you."

Merlin smiled at that but he still remained worried. "Still," he tried again.

Arthur cut across him, "Why don't we talk about it in a Round Table meeting tonight?"

The warlock thought it over before he smiled. "I haven't been to one of those in centuries."

"Right, now that that's settled," Arthur wiped his mouth on his napkin, "how about some magic lessons, hmmm?"

Merlin groaned.

[][][]

Harry apparated beside his partner, Adaline Hughes, in an abandoned alley near the British Museum. This was to be his first official assignment as an Auror and Harry was a little nervous. He'd been asked to dress in semi-formal muggle attire since he and Adaline were going to speak with several muggle authorities. Readjusting his glasses and rubbing the wrinkles from his dark green button down shirt, Harry looked to Adaline for instructions.

"Right, Harry," the older brunette muttered, "keep your wand hidden and follow my lead, okay?"

Harry nodded, "Okay." His wand was currently resting in a holder attached to his left forearm, the handle nearest to his wrist so he could easily grasp it and whip it out should a threat present itself.

The two Aurors joined the throng of commuters on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the now partially destroyed British Museum. As they drew near to where several officers stood speaking with one of the museum officials, Adaline took charge and captured their attention.

"Adaline Hughes," she announced, holding out some kind of badge. "My colleague and I have been asked to examine the central section of the museum that's been attacked."

The officer studying her badge nodded once before handing it back to her. "You're clear to go in, Mrs. Hughes, just be mindful not to touch anything."

"We will, thanks," Adaline answered with a sweet smile as she took back the badge and pocketed it. "Come on, Harry."

Harry followed Adaline up the steps past the old stone pillars and into the museum. The once white walls were charred black from the remains of the fire, hundreds of years of history lost in a matter of seconds. Adaline paused at one of the darkened spots of wall and rested her hand against the surface. Harry watched as Adaline whipped out her wand, whispered a spell, and broke off a section of the wall, pocketing it immediately.

"Evidence," she muttered to his questioning brow. "If this fire was created with magic, there will be a trace on it. Not one that we can use to identify who did it – we'd need the wand in question in order to do that – but we would be able to learn if it was manmade or magical and that's a start."

"Got it," Harry muttered, making a mental note to collect evidence during future assignments.

Adaline was a hands-on teacher and Harry counted himself lucky that she was his trainer. She was patient but expectant, teaching Harry in plain yet intelligent terms. She made sure to give him opportunities but she also kept it clear that she was the leader in their partnership. Harry was fine with this, seeing as he was still a complete novice as to how to be an Auror.

It didn't take long to find the Early Medieval section that had been 'ransacked' as the muggle news reported. Harry frowned. The remains of protective cases were now left in dangerous shards scattered throughout the room. Priceless objects had been broken and tossed aside with no consideration by the perpetrator of their previous value.

Adaline tsked. "What a mess," she muttered, nudging one of her closed toe shoes against a piece of pottery.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "What do you think they were after?"

"No idea," she muttered, slowly stepping further into the room. "You go that way," she pointed to the left, "and I'll take this way. We'll meet halfway and see if we've found any traces of magic. Remember the spell?"

Harry nodded. It was a simple one, creating a light glow of blue mist around any trace of magical residue. With one last shared look from Adaline, Harry squared his shoulders and slowly started making his way left, weaving around the few platforms and keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. He made it halfway before the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Green eyes swerved around to the display of a knight, the chainmail hidden beneath a red tunic with a large yellow dragon on the chest. At first Harry just thought he was drawn to it because it reminded him of the chainmail King Arthur and the Knights had worn but then he noticed the stain. Painted in something that he suspected to be blood, the streaks of rustic red originated from where the knight's abdominal section would have rested, running down until they dripped into the chainmail. A small pool of the offensive substance had dried at the base of the display.

Harry swallowed. Raising his wand, he waved it and a blue mist shot out of the tip, instantly surrounding the stain and the blood trailing onto the floor.

"Adaline!" he called, his voice echoing throughout the room.

There was a rush of footsteps before the witch appeared, her face filled with concern. "What did you find?"

Harry pointed to where the blood rested, the blue mist still lingering around it. Adaline observed the discolored area, a confused frown on her brow.

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked.

Adaline shook her head. "I don't know but I've got a bad feeling about this… Come on, let's go back and report it."

The two disapparated on the spot, Harry taking a second longer than his partner to stare at the foreboding display. Whatever it meant, it couldn't be good.

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 **Gasp! More foreshadowing? Leave a review! :D I do love them so!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hi everyone! So, this may come as a shock but this is the last chapter of this story. BUT before all of you throw sorrowful (and perhaps angry) reviews and messages my way, there is an Epilogue and a SURPRISE that I will be posting shortly. Thank you all for your messages, your reviews, and the time you took sticking with me through this story and Loss and Light. All of you are awesome!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or Disney**

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33: Confront Your Inner Demons

Merlin might not be very excited about attending Hogwarts lessons but Arthur was secretly looking forward to them. In the past, when Merlin had taught a few students the arts of magic, the king had sat in and found it all rather fascinating. He wondered how different modern magic would be to that of the ancient studies. He didn't forget the reason behind these sit-ins, though; helping Merlin was his greatest priority.

Dragging the warlock toward the others, Arthur's smile was big as he said, "Shall we head out then?"

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" asked Guinevere, eyeing Merlin with slight concern. "Maybe it's too fast. Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow?"

Surprisingly, it was Merlin who answered before Arthur – though he responded in a bitter tone. "Gwen, if I pile up enough tomorrows, I'll find that I'm left with nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays."

Morgana raised a curious brow. "The Music Man?"

Merlin grinned. "The very same. Genius work, musicals. I must say, out of all the cinematography I've witnessed over the years, musicals are my favorite."

"I'm lost," Gwaine admitted.

"Merlin just quoted a line from a musical called The Music Man," Lancelot explained. "It is one of my favorites too."

Arthur found himself grinning. Of course Merlin would like musicals; he had loved every time performers came into town – more so than Arthur ever had. "Musicals, Merlin? Really?"

The warlock folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow. "And what's so wrong with musicals, Arthur?"

The king shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Come on, let's go. You're the only one who knows where the classes are so we're following you. Which class involves wand movement?"

The group started making their way out of the now fairly empty Hall towards the marble staircase. Merlin suggested going to Charms first since most charm spells fit in the innocence category; a very good place for Merlin to start concerning his fear.

Since Professor Flitwick had become Headmaster, the position for Charms professor had to be filled quite rapidly. Arthur still remembered the day after Merlin shut himself up in his tower; the Headmaster had approached him, asking permission for Emelius Price to be the new professor. The man was in his late forties with soft brown hair and astonishing green eyes. He was a compassionate soul with a desire to help others reach their potential and Arthur immediately approved of him.

Professor Price sat at his desk at the front of the classroom studying some ancient text when the Camelotians walked through the door. The class hadn't started yet but the chatter in the room died instantly at the sight of Arthur and the others approaching the teacher's desk.

Professor Price looked up and his eyes widened in shock as Arthur approached him. "King Arthur," he acknowledged, shooting out of his seat and respectfully inclining his head, "what brings you to my classroom?"

"We're here to simply observe your class, professor," Arthur smiled. "We're all rather curious to know how magic is taught in the modern world so we thought we'd sit in. Would that be alright?"

The poor professor looked like he was going to have a conniption before he settled his emotions and smiled a somewhat nervous smile. "That shouldn't be a problem. Um, where would you like to sit?"

"We'll be in the back," Arthur said, pointing to the empty space behind the last row of desks. "Merlin, would you be so kind as to...?"

Merlin smirked before raising his hand, his eyes burning gold. The students gasped in awe at the sight and Arthur felt more than saw Merlin wince a little from all the adoration shooting at him on all sides. Trying to ignore the stares, the warlock made his way to the back of the room where a collection of comfortable armchairs sat. Arthur and the others immediately followed suit, settling in only to find Professor Price and all of the first year students staring back at them with a mixture of apprehension and admiration.

"Please, pretend we're not here," Arthur said, hoping that would be enough of a cue for the professor to start.

Professor Price caught on, clearing his throat and ordering the gawking first years to turn around and pay attention.

"Right, so, Professor Flitwick told me that due to the recent events that occurred before the holiday, most of you haven't been able to put the levitation spell into actual practice. Today we will be focusing on the swish and flick movement of your wands for the first half of the lesson before applying the incantation with the movement in the second half."

Professor Price reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. Merlin immediately stiffened next to Arthur, his hands clenching a little on the armrests. Arthur and Freya shared a concerned glance before he reached over and rested a hand on Merlin's forearm.

"Are you alright?" Arthur whispered as the rest of the class took out their own wands.

Merlin, if possible, stiffened even further. "Yeah," he grunted, his eyes becoming haunted. He closed them a moment, took a deep breath, and forced the tension in his frame to relax. "I'll be alright," he whispered more to himself than to the others.

Arthur, ever concerned, kept one eye on Merlin and the other on the class as the lesson took place. The swish and flick movements of the wands caused Merlin to flinch several times but he tried really hard to keep the rest of his inner turmoil to himself. Arthur's hand never left his forearm, hoping that it would be an anchor to keep the warlock from diving into memories of the past.

Things seemed to be going rather well, until some overconfident Slytherin decided to try the incantation and set his and his neighbor's desks on fire. The sight of leaping red flame had Merlin toppling out of his seat onto the floor, scrambling away from the flames as quickly as possible, his chest heaving and his eyes widening in panic and fear.

"Merlin!" Gwaine cried in concern as the Camelotians left their seats and started towards the hyperventilating warlock on the ground.

Thankfully the class was distracted by the sight of the flaming desks and Professor Price reprimanding the boy who had foolishly tried to beat the flames away with his cloak – which had now joined the ruined desk and books resting within the fire – to notice what was going on behind them. Arthur figured the professor could handle the situation. He needed to deal with Merlin. Pushing his way past the knights, he approached Merlin cautiously, slowly kneeling down by his side and grasping his shoulders. Merlin immediately began to struggle and Arthur tightened his grip.

"Merlin! Merlin, it's alright," he soothed, "you're alright."

Merlin immediately stilled at the sound of Arthur's voice. "Arthur…?" His wide blue eyes were filled with pain, terror, fear, and desperation. Tears started to fill them. "I'm sorry," he rambled. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you for _so_ _long_ …"

Arthur's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder. The students couldn't see Merlin like this. The warlock was trapped in a different time, a different place, and he was exposed in such a way that Arthur wouldn't wish any of the Wizarding World to see.

"Form a wall," he muttered to the knights.

Immediately understanding his intentions, they followed his orders to the letter, turning their backs on the warlock and king, facing the classroom which was now devoid of any fires. The room was too quiet though and Arthur feared the worst. The students had realized that something was going on. Merlin's whimpering wasn't helping.

"Merlin, be silent," Arthur ordered, a little harsher than he meant to.

It had the desired effect however, as the warlock stilled, his countenance filling with a devastating resignation. "Yes, sire," he mumbled, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Arthur hated to see Merlin misinterpreting him but he couldn't let the students figure out what was going on. The rumors that would spread…

"Morgana, can you ask Professor Price to dismiss the class?"

"Of course."

Morgana swept past the knights, ignoring the way the students jumped out of her way as she calmly but quickly rushed to the front of the room and whispered something in the professor's ear. Professor Price looked concerned but asked no further questions. Instead, he promptly dismissed the confused class and practically shooed them out of the room, vacating the area in seconds. The man may be compassionate but he could be strict and firm when necessary.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, approaching the knights.

"No," Leon said, "but we thank you for your offer."

Arthur waited until he heard the door shut before asking the others to give him and Merlin some space. Freya was the most reluctant to leave the dejected warlock's side but after a shared look with Guinevere, the Queen took her gently by the hand and led her to the front of the class where the others had gathered.

Arthur's gentle gaze softened further as he sighed and wrapped Merlin in a comforting embrace.

"A-Arthur?" Merlin choked out, confused.

"Merlin, this isn't the past. I already know and have accepted your magic. We're in the future, you're not tied to a stake, and I'm not walking away from you," Arthur whispered in his ear. "We're at Hogwarts, remember?"

It took a moment but when Merlin's shoulders relaxed in obvious relief, Arthur pulled away. Two shaky white hands rubbed a haggard face before Merlin lowered them, breathing deeply. "Right," he whispered, " _right_ …"

"Are you okay?"

Merlin shook his head. "Pathetic," he muttered. "One sight of fire and I become a complete wreck. You never tied me to a stake, Arthur. I should have known what was going on. But it all seemed so real and–"

"Merlin, stop it," Arthur commanded. "There's no reason to beat yourself up over this. The illusions that Lestrange made you witness were traumatic psychological attacks. I'm not surprised you slipped into them again when seeing the flames. That stupid boy's ambition to try something he didn't understand caused all of this. I should put him in the stocks."

Merlin weakly laughed. "First off, he's a Slytherin so it was only natural for him to be ambitious and secondly, you can't go around throwing students in the stocks anymore, Arthur. That's child abuse."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Detention then. I'll talk to Professor Price about it."

Merlin sighed. "Arthur, I appreciate what you're trying to do but I think the kid learned his lesson. Not only did he ruin school property but he also had to face the embarrassment of doing so in front of his classmates. That's punishment enough."

Arthur scowled. "You're too soft sometimes, Merlin; like a marshmallow."

Merlin's smile was wide as he replied, "Better to be a marshmallow than a cabbagehead."

Pleased that he'd lifted his warlock's spirits, Arthur ruffled his hair and affectionately muttered, "Shut up, idiot."

"Prat."

They shared a grin before Arthur cleared his throat. "Right, shall we go to another class then?"

Merlin's grin slipped from his face faster than someone falling on ice. Filled with dread, he started shaking his head emphatically. "I don't think I can handle another round of accidental flames, Arthur."

The king didn't want to press him but he also didn't want Merlin to hide away again. "Merlin, just because it happened once doesn't mean it's going to happen again."

"No," Merlin replied stubbornly, folding his arms. "I'm not going, Arthur."

The king scowled. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

" _Mer_ lin."

" _Ar_ thur."

The king ground his teeth together. "Now you're just being a stubborn old man!"

"You're right!" Merlin snapped. "I don't want to do it, Arthur, and you can't make me!"

Arthur opened his mouth to argue that he could but a delicate hand rested on his shoulder. Neither he nor Merlin had realized they'd started shouting, enabling the others to hear what they were arguing about. The hand ended up belonging to Freya.

"Can you give us a moment, Arthur?" she asked gently. "We'll meet you and the others out in the hall."

Arthur wanted to say no but he held his tongue. Perhaps Freya might be able to talk some sense into the idiot? Sighing, the king stood and nodded. "Fine. But Merlin? You were the one who taught me long ago that it's better to face your inner demons than to let them haunt you from the shadows."

The king turned away. Feeling Merlin's eyes on his back the whole way, he paused at the door to the classroom and silently added, _"I won't let you face them alone, you know."_

" _I know,"_ Merlin whispered in his mind, his tone apologetic.

Arthur turned around and their eyes met. _"You're not a coward, Merlin. You won't run away. You_ will _come to another class."_

" _Arthur–"_

" _I'll wait for you in the hall."_

He then cut off the connection and shut the door behind him.

"What was that all about?" Gwaine immediately demanded. "I thought you were going to _comfort_ Merlin not argue with him!"

"Calm your overprotective mother bear syndrome and let me explain!" Arthur snapped, frustrated. Gwaine glared but nodded, folding his arms. Arthur sighed. "I _did_ comfort him but then the idiot refused to go to another class."

"Then why press him?" asked Lancelot. "This is obviously harder for him that we realized. We should let him take things slow."

Arthur shook his head. "No, Lancelot. If we let him off the hook that easily, he won't ever get over this. In order for someone to move on, they have to confront the problems they're dealing with."

"We're not saying that he shouldn't, Arthur," said Elyan. "We want Merlin to recover just as much as you do but do you think…?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"We fear you might be asking too much of him too soon," Percival said.

Arthur folded his arms and stared at them all. "Do you all feel this way?"

"No."

Two golden eyebrows rose in surprise for it was Morgana who spoke before the anyone else could. The former witch rolled her eyes.

"Don't look so surprised, Arthur," she half-mocked. "Merlin's flaw is that his desire to help those he loves causes him to neglect his own personal needs. Having to face his own insecurities is a lot more daunting to him than helping someone else face theirs. If you let him go now, he will recluse even further into himself than before, allowing his tendency of considering himself a failure to convince him that he can't move past what he is dealing with."

Gwaine looked at her, impressed. "And how do _you_ know that's what'll happen?"

Morgana scowled. "Merlin foiled every plan I made when it concerned someone he cared about but when I fought against him personally, I could see the doubt. I saw it as weakness before and I utilized it. How do you think I was able to hurt him so many times in the past? He doubted that he could fully control the power within himself. His fear of being rejected or feared by his associates and friends prevented him from reaching his full potential. I think he still struggles with that but not as much; he's had centuries to accept his identity. But he's never really been tortured in this way before. Even though I'm no longer evil, I can't deny that what Rodolphus did was ingenious."

"How can you even say that?!" Guinevere cried, outraged.

"I said it was ingenious not right," Morgana defended, hurt that Guinevere would think she actually approved of what Lestrange had done. "Think about it, Gwen. If you had an enemy and you wanted to eliminate them, the best way to do that is use their fears against them. He kidnapped Merlin weeks ago and yet the damage he's done is still there. It was horrific but the success of his intent is evident."

"He wanted to make Merlin useless," Leon muttered, frowning.

Morgana nodded. "Because he knew that Merlin was the greatest threat. He struck him in the heart, using lesser magic to hurt him, creating a scene that would tear up his soul. We've all seen how jumpy Merlin becomes around wands. How poetically evil; the greatest warlock to ever live is now afraid to walk amidst his own kind."

"That no good son of a–"

"Gwaine!" Guinevere reprimanded.

The knight's fists were clenched so tightly his nails were beginning to draw blood. "If he hadn't been given the Dementor's Kiss, I'd be on my way to Azkaban right now to kill him myself!"

Arthur let out a sigh. He was just as angry as Gwaine about the situation but anger wasn't going to help Merlin. "Do you see now why it's so important for Merlin to go to another class, to try again? He can't avoid this and we can't let him. These people here look up to him, they respect and some even worship him. Though I don't agree with them looking to him as some kind of deity, as a king I know how important it is to be strong for your people."

"But Merlin also taught you that it was okay to show people weakness, sire," Leon pointed out.

"Yes but Merlin can't show weakness in this manner," Arthur said adamantly. "Having him be afraid of wands is like me being afraid of swords, Leon. If the people had seen me suddenly terrified to pick up a weapon, they would have begun to believe I wasn't capable of leading them. Doubt would have crept in, power would have been sought by others, and the kingdom would have fallen. We cannot allow the Wizarding World to believe that Merlin is incapable of being who we know him to be. He must overcome this fear."

He looked around at the others and was pleased to see agreement shining through their eyes. He was about to say more when the bell chimed, indicating the end of class. The sounds of hundreds of feet parading through the school vibrated off the walls as students emerged into the corridor, chatting and laughing as they made their way to their next lesson. At the sight of the Camelotians hovering outside the Charms classroom, the group of fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to attend the class next started forming a rather wary line, none of them sure why they were there or what their intentions were.

Arthur was just about to open the Charms door and fetch Merlin and Freya when the handle turned and the warlock appeared, his lady following right behind him. From the second Arthur saw him, he knew what Merlin had decided.

Merlin glanced at the others with a small smile before staring at his king. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes and Arthur was vaguely aware of Professor Price lingering in the background with his students, waiting to get into his classroom but unsure if he should ask them to move or not.

"Arthur…" Merlin began, shuffling his feet back and forth and biting his lower lip unconsciously.

In his eyes, Arthur could see the fear but he could also see the courage and determination that spurred his best friend to do what was necessary, no matter how impossible the odds. The king smiled. He didn't need Merlin to try to explain himself because he already understood. Nothing needed to be said. So instead he rested a reassuring hand on his Court Sorcerer's shoulder.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Merlin stared at him in slight surprise before a look of gratitude washed over him. He then nodded and said, "Let's go."

Arthur applied a small amount of pressure to Merlin's shoulder before releasing it. "Well, lead the way then, idiot. I don't very well know where the next class is."

"I thought you once said that, as king, you knew _everything_ that took place in your castle. Doesn't this mean you should already know _where_ the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is?"

Secretly grinning, Arthur cuffed Merlin over the head. "Shut up and lead the way, Merlin."

Grinning openly, Merlin sent him a mock bow. "As you wish, your royal pratness."

Arthur made a grab for him but Merlin, quick on his feet whenever this happened, was already booking it down the hall. Arthur immediately gave chase. "Come back here, Merlin! MERLIN!"

Neither of them noticed the relieved, happy grins on their friends' faces or the bewildered and somewhat amused looks from the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, or Professor Price.

They were two consumed in their usual taunts and laughter, running through the halls of the castle as they once had many centuries ago as two friends, a king and his warlock; two sides of the same coin.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or Disney.**

 **Please see Author's Note at the bottom for exciting news! :)**

* * *

34: The Warlock and his Lady

Merlin stood in his room, staring at the mirror but not at his reflection. He was having an 'old man moment' again, where his thoughts were consumed in the past.

It had been four months since Uther Pendragon's death. Arthur had relinquished the rights of ownership of his father's company, Head Oil, to another member of the board, taking a large sum of money and cutting all ties with the oil business. Now the king resided at Hogwarts, having kept his promise to help Merlin overcome his fear of wands. It had taken months of attending classes – along with some personal magic duels with Harry and other members of the Order – but the greatest warlock of all time had finally overcome his fear.

Now there was talk of Arthur and the knights joining with the Aurors of the Ministry as an attempt to be the first step towards Albion, showing that muggles and wizards could fight together side by side. But it was merely scheming ideas at present. The main reason for all of it was that the knights didn't want to return to their previous mundane lives, feeling that their place, once again, was behind their king. Morgana had no desire to go back to being a librarian; she and Gwaine were now engaged so it was practically impossible to see one without the other. Feeling a need to do something besides wander around a magic school, Arthur and the knights had therefore gone to Kingsley and concocted the idea of joining the Auror program. Merlin liked the proposals Arthur had presented to him but Kingsley was still skeptical. Perhaps, in the future, things would work out.

The future.

Merlin's thoughts turned ominous as he thought of the day six months ago when Harry had informed him of what he'd found at the British Museum. There had been no further attacks but that didn't mean they should let their guard down. Merlin felt something stirring in the air and it wasn't something good. He'd spoken with Aithusa and Altiore about it and both agreed they too felt something was amiss. But nothing had happened and it had been months. The warlock shook his head. He'd been on edge for the last two weeks, waiting for something bad to occur. It was the end of the school year, after all, and for the last six years something terrible had happened during this time. Sure, Voldemort was dead and the Death Eaters were locked away, but Merlin wasn't willing to ignore this foreboding he felt in his chest. Arthur had called it wedding jitters, the prat.

Wedding.

That's right.

He was–

" _There_ you are!"

Merlin was yanked from his thoughts as the Once and Future King burst into his room decked out in the finest chainmail he owned. His blonde hair sported a magnificent golden crown, his broad shoulders hidden beneath an immaculate red cape with a yellow dragon embroidered on the sides. Grinning widely, Arthur looked Merlin up and down in approval.

"So this is what a warlock wears to his own wedding?" he asked, fingering the white cloak Merlin wore. "It somehow suits you."

Merlin smiled nervously. "It's not any different from the one I wore at McGonagall's funeral. It's the same; I just changed it so it's white with silver thread."

Arthur laughed. "How lazy of you, Merlin!"

"I like to think of it as efficient and skillful, Arthur," Merlin huffed. "Do you know how hard it is to transfigure something like this? So many intricate patterns; it was a nightmare keeping the magic separated so the silver didn't leak into the white!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was _very_ difficult," Arthur replied rolling his eyes.

The robe was somewhat open, displaying a white tunic and pants with a silver neckerchief and boots underneath. Arthur's grin widened as he playfully fingered the neckwear. Merlin swatted his hand away.

"A neckerchief at your wedding… why am I not surprised?" the king teased.

Merlin folded his arms and smirked. "A prat at my wedding… I guess there's no way I can escape that."

"Nor I escaping from an insufferable idiot."

"Supercilious clotpole."

"Ignorant buffoon."

"Total turniphead."

"Worthless toad of a servant."

Merlin shook his head, his lips twitching. "Why did I have to be the other side of the coin to such an arrogant a–"

"Uh-uh-uh, language, Merlin," Arthur chided before the warlock could complete the sentence. "You wouldn't want Freya to hear such words coming from your mouth, now would you?"

Merlin shoved Arthur playfully. "It's not a big deal, Arthur. Besides, it's not like I have a sailor's mouth."

"No," Arthur agreed, "just a cheeky one."

The two old friends grinned. The king let out a soft sigh. "Are you ready?"

Merlin's stomach dropped and his grin slipped a little. "I think so," he said, turning around to adjust his cloak one last time.

"Merlin, you're not getting cold feet, are you?" Arthur playfully taunted, his grin returning.

Merlin scowled. "Of course not!"

"Then why are you nervous? You're going to marry the woman of your dreams."

Merlin sighed and fingered his robe. "That's exactly why I'm nervous. Arthur, every time something good is about to happen in my life, something horrible occurs. And ever since Harry showed us that chainmail in the British Museum, I can't help but think that something bad is going to happen – not to mention for the past six years this school has rotten luck in dealing with some kind of calamity."

"What, are you expecting the ceiling to fall and kill everyone in the room?"

"Arthur, I'm serious!" Merlin snapped, angry that his friend was treating this so lightly. "You and I both know how this works. Something bad _always_ happens."

Arthur took Merlin's shoulders and squeezed them. "Merlin, nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing has for months. That accident in the museum, nothing's come from it. I'm not saying that gives us a right to relax but you need to let go of this pessimistic thinking until _after_ you're back from your honeymoon. If you don't let it go, you're going to have a horrible experience and neither you nor Freya are going to be happy."

"You're right," Merlin sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I _hate_ it when you're right."

Arthur grinned. "It's a nice feeling. Usually you're the one in such a position."

"That's where I prefer to be," Merlin grumbled. "Pessimism is your forte not mine."

Arthur chuckled. "You're the one choosing to be pessimistic right now, Merlin."

The warlock sighed again. "Okay, okay, I'll let it go. But when I get back–"

"Yes, yes, we'll deal with it," Arthur interrupted, grabbing Merlin's forearm and leading him towards the door. "Now, we both need to get down to the Great Hall before Gwaine comes looking for us. Everyone's already assembled."

The two made it to the marble staircase when Merlin's heart leapt into his throat. This was finally happening. After years – centuries - of waiting, longing, _dreaming_ , his desires were about to become a reality. He was to marry Freya, a girl he'd rescued long ago, a girl who'd captured his heart and left him too soon. But now she was back, no longer cursed, and they had the blessing of the Triple Goddess to be wed. An unconscious smile lit the warlock's face. Over fifteen hundred years and he was finally leaving the status of bachelor; he must hold the world record. Chuckling quietly, he walked into the Hall with Arthur and the volume of noise dropped.

The Hogwarts students had all been invited to attend, this being the day before they left on the Hogwarts Express for the summer. Merlin had befriended many of them, remembering their names and helping them with their homework. It hadn't taken long for the students to see why he was so beloved by the knights and the royals; like the days of old, people were drawn to the warlock. He left light in the soul wherever he went. Many of the students waved and Merlin's smile was wide as he waved back. Since they began attending classes, a change had occurred within the school. The rivalries between houses had actually dissipated and Merlin was pleased to see that after months of working on it, there were now Slytherins and Gryffindors sitting side by side in the crowd as friends.

He reached the front of the room where the members of the Order were seated in the front row in their best robes. Tonks, sporting her usual bubblegum pink hair, held onto her tiny son, Teddy, whose hair was changing all kinds of color as his curious eyes roamed the room. Harry sat next to Ginny, his hand clasped in hers, a smile on his face. Ron and Hermione were next to them, each sporting a smile, and when Merlin saw Fred and George, the twins gave him a thumbs up. Merlin shook his head a little, his grin widening.

A magic portal had been created in the side of one of the large walls so that Aithusa and Altiore could attend the ceremony while out on the grounds. The two dragons sat close together, now a couple, their tails intertwined together. Both dragons caused a few of the students to be a little wary but for the most part people trusted Merlin to keep them in line.

Merlin's greatest friends, the Knights of the Round Table, were also in their finest chainmail, all of them smiling with happiness for their friend. Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Merlin rolled his eyes. The knight had teased him quite a bit the night before, playfully asking if they needed to go over how to have a 'successful' honeymoon. Merlin had promptly transformed Gwaine's precious black locks to lanky green strands, refusing to change them back until Gwaine admitted it was none of his business. This was all done, of course, over a tankard of firewhiskey and a large round of laughter between the two friends. Gwaine agreed and his hair was now back to normal. Morgana, wearing a lovely red dress, swatted Gwaine's arm and whispered something that sounded like, "Behave."

Gaius stepped away from the group, wearing the superlative robes of the Court Physician, the spitting image of the man he'd been so many centuries ago. Since Uther's death, he'd dwelt at Hogwarts, partaking in the knowledge of the vast library books and participating in classes along with Merlin and the others. With a wide smile, he wrapped his arms around the warlock and patted him firmly on the back.

"My boy," he muttered emotionally, "I'm so _proud_ of you, Merlin. This is a day you deserve, one that I'm glad you finally get to have. I've only ever wanted to see you happy, my son. Now, at the twilight of my second life, I get to do so."

Merlin tried not to tear up as he emotionally chuckled, "Thank you, Gaius. I'm so glad you're here, to see this…"

"As am I, my boy," he said fondly, "as am I."

He returned to his place as Gwen appeared from the side door, wearing an elegant gown of royal purple with golden accents. Her magnificent crown rested over her short wavy curls, a pair of dangly gold earrings swaying rhythmically back and forth as she made her way to where Arthur and Merlin stood.

She hugged the warlock and kept her hands in his as she kissed him on the cheek. "You look so handsome, Merlin," she complimented.

"Indeed he does," said a voice behind them. "Now, are we going to start this ceremony or sit in the room for an eternity?"

The words had been spoken with a familiar petulance, accompanied by several cries of surprise from the gathered crowd. A huge grin already in place, Merlin whipped around and launched himself towards the smaller man who had just magically appeared in the Hall.

"Archimedes!" he happily cried, hugging the former bird with all his strength.

"Merlin, I can't _breathe!"_ the Gatekeeper protested.

Laughing, the warlock let him go, his eyes sparkling. Then he noticed the beautiful woman next to him. "Hedwig!" he grinned, hugging her as well. "Thank you, for all you've done," he whispered in her ear.

The pale woman with snow-white hair smiled, her amber eyes twinkling. "It was an honor to do so, Emrys."

"Great, what _is_ your owl doing here, Merlin? Doesn't he have a Gate to watch over?"

Archimedes scowled. "I see the Once and Future King is still an idiotic one. One would think that would change with age. Oh wait, your twenty four again, instead of forty seven."

"Twenty five," Arthur corrected. "My birthday happened just a little while ago. And I'm older than I look, ficklefeathers!"

"Fighting on my wedding day? Can't you two call a truce?" Merlin asked, unable to keep himself from grinning.

Archimedes eyed Arthur, humor in his gaze. "I suppose we could; if the king were to behave himself."

Arthur's eyes were also dancing with silent mirth. "That depends on how prattish you're going to be, Archimedes."

Hedwig placed a delicate hand on Archimedes arm. "Peace, husband," she muttered. "Now is not the time or the place."

Archimedes sighed. "Yes, dear."

"Shall we start then?" Gwaine called. "I'm starving and I'm sure the house elves are cooking up something good!"

There was a round of laughter from the crowd at these words and Merlin indicated for Archimedes and Hedwig to join the knights. Their forms seemed more to glide across the floor than to actually touch it and as they went Hedwig sent Harry a warm smile. The young wizard smiled back. Merlin faced the king and the queen, the greatest friends he could ever have.

"Are you ready?" Gwen whispered to him.

Merlin nodded, his goofy smile unable to leave his face. Arthur had to stop himself from snickering. Gwen kissed his cheek one last time before taking her place next to Leon, just to the left of Arthur. The king and warlock shared a nod before Merlin's eyes flashed and music sprung into existence. It was ancient, beautiful, and played a melody that caused all to feel at peace. The doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing Merlin's bride.

Freya's hair was loose, the curls flowing in soft ringlets around her face, two strands held back by flower pins made from diamonds and sapphires that also served to hold a veil in place. Her dress was white, Celtic in design, the long sleeves flowing down on either side of her beautiful form. A stripe of white cloth hugged her hips, tied in the middle, hanging loose in the front towards the hem of her lace infused gown. Her hands were hidden beneath a lovely bouquet of blue wildflowers, a few small strawberries mingling throughout the delicate petals.

"Wow," Merlin quietly breathed, his heart taking off.

Arthur, the only one to hear his adoration, quietly chuckled somewhere behind him. Freya reached the platform, passing her bouquet to Gwen before placing her hands within Merlin's. The two stared into each other's eyes, transfixed. Eons of longing were felt between the two. For centuries they had dreamt of this moment. Merlin had long ago accepted it as nothing but a fantasy, something that could never be. But now he was here, standing hand in hand with the woman Fate had connected him to, about to be joined to her forever by the authority of his king. It was so surreal and yet so right, how long it had taken to reach this moment in time.

Arthur stepped up behind them and kept the wording short and sweet. "This day has been one many of us have been waiting for, for a very long time. A select few have seen firsthand the struggles these two individuals have had to face, of the seemingly impossible odds they have had to endure in order to reach this moment. It is now the privilege of those present today to witness a union that has been highly anticipated for centuries."

Arthur paused, turning to look at his most trusted and cherished friend. "Merlin Emrys, Court Sorcerer of the Kingdom of Albion, High Priest of the Old Religion, King of the Druids, and Protector of the Once and Future King, do you take this woman, Freya Donnelly, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for as long as you both shall live?"

Merlin looked into Freya's eyes and nodded. "I do," he proclaimed.

Arthur's grin was wide as he continued, "Do you, Freya Donnelly, former Lady of the Lake, take this man, Merlin Emrys, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for as long as you both shall live?"

Freya's smile was radiant and her eyes bright as she answered, "I do."

"Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I now proclaim you husband and wife," Arthur declared, his voice ringing with authority and happiness throughout the room.

Merlin's grin was huge as he stared into the eyes of his wife. His wife. Freya. She was his.

"Well, what are you waiting for, _Mer_ lin? Kiss her!" Arthur laughed.

The warlock didn't need further prompting. Wrapping his arms around his bride, his lips found Freya's and he kissed her, conveying with everything he had how deeply he loved the magnificent creature now within his arms. His magic, unable to be contained, leapt from his body and shot off into the air in a display of blue and white fireworks, exploding harmlessly over the heads of the crowd. As warlock and lady pulled out of one of the most romantic displays of love the witnesses had ever seen, Arthur started clapping and the rest soon followed, cheering and shouting congratulations. Aithusa and Altiore let out roars of triumph and jubilation, resulting in everyone jumping a foot out of their chairs. The hall rang with laughter and Merlin only let go of Freya to embrace Arthur.

The king laughed heartily in his friend's ear, patting him on the back. "Congratulations, old friend," he muttered.

When they pulled away, Merlin's grin was the same as it had been so long ago: pure and innocent, filled with complete and utter happiness. Arthur clasped his shoulders, his fondness and love for his warlock expressed in his caring eyes and his slightly crooked smile. Merlin returned the gesture, nodding in gratitude and love.

"Thank you, my king," he whispered.

Arthur inclined his head before letting him go so that others could hug him and offer their own exclamations of happiness.

The rest of the day was spent in the company of friends and family and Merlin, the greatest warlock to ever live, was able to forget about the uncertainties of the future and focus on the present, relishing the reality of being married to the woman he loved, reunited with his king and queen, and surrounded by his most cherished friends old and new alike.

For the first time in over fifteen hundred years, all was completely, irrevocably as it should be.

* * *

 **Yay! So that's the end of Quest for Albion. Reviews please?**

 **Now, for the big reveal: THERE'S GOING TO BE A SEQUEL! Yep, I have decided to make this into a trilogy. However, though I pretty much have a good chunk of it already figured out, I don't have anything written yet. Don't worry; I'll start working on it and posting as soon as I've finished my other surprise that I have for all of you Merlin fans (Harry Potter fans, I still love you too!). I decided to join the bandwagon and write my own Merlin reveal fic. Now, before you all roll your eyes and say, another one?! let me tell you all that mine isn't very common. At least, I don't think it is. I mean, come on, Arthur getting stuck having to deal with his manservant turning into a five year old who ignorantly reveals his magic to his king? How many times have you read that one? I know there are a few out there but I don't think it's the majority of what's been shared. Yeah, you know you want to read it! ;) To reassure you,** **I'm eighty percent finished with it so I'm going to finish it and then start on the next book in my Loss and Light trilogy. I will be sure to post another author's note at the end of this story to tell you when I post the third book's first chapter. For the Merlin fans who want to read my reveal fic, you can go ahead and favorite or follow me (if you haven't already) and then you'll know when that story is up!**

 **Whew, that was a lot. Sorry for the huge note, guys. But a mega-gigantic-bigger-than-you've-ever-seen THANK YOU to all of you for reading this story. I have enjoyed your comments and messages and I hope that when I get the next one up, you'll all come back to read more. You guys are phenomenal! Long live Merlin and Harry Potter, two of the best fandoms to ever come into existence! :D And we can't forget Disney too; thanks for creating Archimedes! ^^**


	35. Chapter 35

**Hi everyone! I just wanted all of you to know that Saving Albion, the next story in the Loss and Light Trilogy, is finally making its way onto the site. Come check it out! :)**


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